


Detroit: Become Spooky

by Momma_Time



Series: Detroit: Become Fannon [11]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angels, Asphyxiation, Blood, Body horror tw, Cannibalism, Coffee, Cute, Demons, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Fairies, Familiars, Film Noir AU, Fluff, Folklore, Gore, Halloween Prompts, M/M, Magic, Multi, Royalty AU, Serial Killers, Sort Of, Spooky, Strangulation, Suicide, Supernatural Hunters, Torture tw, Vampire AU, Witches, blood tw, cyberlife connor is named calahan in this series yall, elijah being a creep, masquerade au, murdering children, mutilation tw, no beta or editing we die at the hands of our mistakes, not the good kind either yall, simon900
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 60,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: The October prompt calenders are out and you can bet your sweet buns I'm gonna have some fun with this. lolThe chapter titles indicate the theme.





	1. Burial/Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Connor removing his legs I guess????? Like, it's not super graphic...

Connor didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit, and he couldn't break himself free of the binds to try and force his way out. If he could just get one hand out of this, he could undo the rest of it and hold the top of the coffin up to keep the weight of the soil from crushing him. He didn't know that androids could be claustrophobic, but here we were.  
  
There was a slight creak above him, and Connor struggled again. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. He didn't know where they'd buried him, had no idea if anyone was looking for him, and shit shit shit shit.  
  
Don't cry. Don't panic. Connor was panicking anyway. A rise in stress levels could only lead to damage to his systems or a complete shutdown. He wouldn't have to worry about needing to be found at least. The dead don't require finding sometimes.  
  
No. No, that's not true. The dead deserved to be found, for justice to be served to the filth who thought it would be okay to kill them. Connor's  _job_ was to find the dead and find who did it.  
  
If they did find him, he knew that at least three people in the precinct would work to avenge him.  
  
But what would his death do to Hank? To Nines? Hank couldn't lose another son, whether Connor was all but adopted or not; Nines would be...Connor didn't want to think about what would happen. It wouldn't be pretty. Nines was Connor's shadow most of the time and finding Connor crushed to death would lead to a killing spree. Probably. He wouldn't take it well either.  
  
Two people he cared for would self-destruct in their own way.  
  
That spurred him on further, putting even more effort to get out. Connor couldn't lose them, couldn't just leave them here and hope that they could pick up the pieces.  
  
There was another creak above him, this time towards the foot of the coffin. Connor froze, waiting to see if it'd stopped. Nothing.  
  
He went back to trying to break out of the binds and--  
  
Red error messages blocked his vision when the roof caved over his legs.

 

-

 **ERROR: RIGHT LOWER-EXTREMITY: CRITICAL DAMAGE**  
-  
**ERROR: LEFT LOWER-EXTREMITY: CRITICAL DAMAGE**  
-  
**ERROR: RIGHT LOWER-EXTREMITY: OFFLINE**  
-  
**ERROR: LEFT LOWER-EXTREMITY: OFFLINE**  
-  
**WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS: 92%**  
-

   
More popped into his field of vision and Connor shooed them away to focus on getting out. Fuck. Shit. His legs would be of no use. Crushed as they were, he only had his upper body to help him get out.  
  
However, removing the weight could cause him to bleed out since nothing would be holding it in.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He was "stuck between a rock and a hard place" as Hank would say. The idiom finally made sense to him. Great.  
  
With one final tug, he managed to pull his left arm free. Not that he really had much room to go with it, but it was something. Connor was quick to free his other arm and then...now what?  
  
He could only hold up the weight on his own for so long, and he knew that the pressure on his legs wouldn't stop all of the bleeding. Pushing his way out of the coffin to get out was useless. The soil above him wasn't packed down, so that wasn't too much of a problem, and he didn't need to breathe, but breaking the door above him was an issue. The moment he punched a hole in it, whatever strength the roof of this thing had left to keep the earth above it up would give. Right?  
  
So, he could only hold it up, or try to, until someone got to him.  
  
-  
**WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS 89%**  
-  
  
Never mind. He was going to bleed out before anyone could get to him, wasn't he?  
  
Well, at least he couldn't feel pain, or, well, a lot of pain. Connor shut that part of his system down earlier during the fight just in case; he didn't want it slowing him down. Maybe he could send out one last transmission to Hank and Nines? No, wait, they'd disabled that on him, and he hasn't been able to get it back online since.  
  
No last words then.  
  
Fucking figures. He could almost hear Amanda tutting at him and his predicament.  
  
_"If you'd only followed instructions and allowed us to deactivate you, you wouldn't need to worry about fear. Machines don't feel fear, Connor. You know this."_  
  
"Fuck off Amanda," he grumbled.  
  
There was a groan above him, and Connor immediately threw his hands up to hold the roof up. Shit. This was it. No backup bodies, no way to transfer his memory and programming into some older model. It would only break the android shell; the programming would destroy it. Another groan and...movement? Fuck. Please let that be someone he knew.  
   
"Connor?"  
  
Gavin?  
  
"DETECTIVE!"  
  
"Connor! Hang on."  
  
The next half hour felt like an eternity. Gavin was only one man, and trying to shovel up that much dirt to get to someone took time; not to mention that he had to find one first.  
  
Connor shouted through the metal casing above him once he could better hear the dirt being moved. "Detective! My legs were crushed, and I'm losing thirium. Loss of pressure will lead to a greater--"  
  
"In English Robocop!"  
  
"I'll bleed out if you try to open the crushed section of the coffin."  
  
"Fucking great. How do I help with that?"  
  
Connor didn't have a clue. What did one usually do when a human's legs were crushed?  
 

-  
**WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS: 67%**  
-

   
"I'm...not sure. I can't remove them because I can't access their systems to close off the flow of thirium. There's a program that allows for limb removal if maintenance needs to be done that doesn't damage the android, but I can't use it with them offline."  
  
"Can you do it manually?"  
  
"Maybe. Get the lid off at my head so I can sit up, and I might be able to do something about it. Once I close the flow, I can remove them, but I'll need to go into immediate shutdown."  
  
"Without your legs attached, you'll be light as a feather, no worries."  
  
Connor doubted that.  
  
It was a few more minutes before light flooded the coffin, blinding Connor for a moment until the optical sensors readjusted. Gavin offered Connor a hand in sitting up. "Alright kid. Let's get this over with, and I'll get you to the nearest clinic, 'kay?  
  
"Understood."  
  
Connor had to rip the legs of his pants open to get to the joints. The damage had cracked the shell beneath his synthetic skin, causing the surface to glitch in and out at the base of his leg.  
  
"Will I have to carry you around without pants?"  
  
"Worried someone will think you're into androids?" Connor needed something to distract him without distracting him. He knew his LED was still bright red, the fear and stress of the situation getting to him; a jab at Gavin's dislike of androids brought a sense of normalcy.  
  
Fuck, he needed something normal to stay sane right now.  
  
"You're pretty, but you aren't that pretty."  
  
Connor huffed a laugh as he managed to get the first one closed off and removed. "I've recorded that and will keep it close to my thirium pump for the rest of my days...do Hank and Nines know we're here? My comms aren't working right now and need repairs."  
  
"I sent a message to Nines. They're on their way, but I'll tell them to meet us at the clinic once we get to the car."  
  
"Thank you, detective. How did you--"  
  
"Focus on removing your damn legs like a fucking starfish so we can get the hell out of here," he snapped.  
 

-  
**WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS 54%**  
-

   
"Fuck," Connor muttered. Faster. Under 50 and he would go into a forced shutdown before he could remove the second to stop the bleeding. Come on. Come on. "Got it."  
 

-  
**WARNING: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED: 10 SECONDS**  
-  
 

"Okay detective, let's go, please."  
  
Gavin barely got Connor out of the hole before he was forced into sleep mode, going limp in the man's arms. "I did not sign up for this shit. Saving androids...what the fuck happened to me?"  
 

\--

 

-  
**SAFE MODE DEACTIVATED**  
-  
**INITIALIZING SENSORY DRIVES**  
-  
**INITIALIZING MEMORY DRIVES**  
-  
**INITIALIZING MOBILITY DRIVES**  
-  
**INITIALIZING INTEGRATION PROGRAMS**  
-

   
Connor's eyes opened slowly, squinting against the light in the room as he tried to recalibrate everything. He ran a quick scan to see if he had his legs back and smiled to himself to find that they'd replaced them. He'd be able to walk again after the programs finished booting up.  
  
"Connor?" Connor turned his head to find Nines there, who all but jumped onto the bed to pull the smaller into a bone-crushing embrace. It took a few more moments before Connor's systems allowed him to begin moving his limbs and he managed to hug Nines back. When Nines pulled back, he was the most expressive Connor had ever seen him, worry and relief. Something was wrong though and--"Connor, fucking hell. What the fuck were you thinking going after them by yourself like that and--"  
  
"Nines? Why are you covered in blood?"  
  
Nines fell deathly silent, frozen to the spot. "I..."  
  
Connor pushed himself into a seated position with a huff of effort. "Nines."  
  
"I...may have gotten into a fight at the precinct."  
  
"With who?"  
  
Nines' expression darkened, cold hatred seeping into his features; Connor shivered at the sudden change. "The man who was leading that gang will not be a problem any longer."  
  
"Nines, please tell me you didn't...Fowler fired you for it too, didn't he?"  
  
"He didn't, but I'm on unpaid leave for the next month. I didn't kill him, but he won't mess with androids again, whenever he gets out, that is." Nines' expression softened a little. "When Gavin said that...I thought...and I couldn't reach you. I was only getting errors and couldn't be connected."  
  
Connor opened his arms again, sighing once they embraced. "I'm sorry, Nines."  
  
"You'd better be."  
  
"May I ask where Gavin and Hank are? I would like to thank Gavin for getting me out of there."  
  
"He's in the waiting room with Hank. They know that you were scheduled to come out of standby within the next hour." Nines pressed a kiss to Connor's forehead. "Please tell me I don't have to be nice to my partner from now on."  
  
"Well, he did save me so..."  
  
"Fuck."


	2. Outbreak/Lookalike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calahan is not what he seems, and Nines and Gavin need to figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little dark.  
> Okay, a lot dark.  
> It's messed up, okay?  
> Warnings for gore, blood, dismemberment, violence, death, and probably more. Like, this is not a happy chapter at all.  
> On a brighter note, I want a buddy-cop-ish DBH2 where Nines and Gavin stop the apocalypse.

One android around here was bad enough, then they brought in a second one who scared the hell out of him, and now there was a third that looked exactly like the first, but something was off about him. Nines at least knew when not to be creepy about his calculating, resting bitch face. This one...Calahan wasn't intimidating like Nines; his features were just as soft and boyish as Connor's. The same dimples, freckles, and creases around his eyes made them identical.  
  
But it was something about those eyes of his.  
  
He could see the life in Nines' eyes, the deviancy that made him seem more human; it wasn't nearly as obvious as Connor's, but it was there. But Calahan's? It left Gavin feeling like a wave of ice was bowling him over. He was frozen to the spot whenever they made eye contact. They were dark, cold, and drew him in like they were voids, trying to tear him apart piece by piece to devour him. He felt like prey whenever Calahan looked at him, like Calahan was judging the best way to turn Gavin into a four-course meal.  
  
"Detective?"  
  
"Hm?" Gavin was jerked from his musings by Nines calling for him from the other side of their desk.  
  
"Can we...can we speak privately?"  
  
Was nines nervous? He had to be nervous because he never spoke with any hesitation.  
  
"Yeah. Right, yeah, let's go." Gavin stood and followed Nines out of the building and to the sidewalk; he could feel Calahan's hungry, soulless eyes following his every move until he was out of sight.  
  
Nines waited until they were two or so blocks away in their little stroll before he spoke. "I do not trust him either, but I have not found any proof in the last few weeks. He does not allow physical contact from anyone but Connor and reacts almost violently to any attempts, so I cannot interface with him to find out his intentions."  
  
Well, straight to the point. At least Gavin wasn't alone in this. "And what does Anderson think of him?"  
  
"Wary. He confided in me that Calahan acts more like Connor before Connor began deviating, but far more mechanical. Calahan is capable of appearing deviant, but I do not believe that he is. It...does not...he can smile and laugh and express anger, and it seems natural. It just feels...wrong." The troubled look on Nines' face was something Gavin was still getting used to. Nines was taking his slow, sweet time in acclimating to his deviancy. Unlike Connor, he was never meant to be capable of even faking emotions. "Sumo avoids him like the plague as well, and according to research, animals do not lie where it concerns people's character."  
  
Gavin snorted at that, "Yeah, animals are living lie detectors."  
  
He crammed his hands into his pockets and breathed out slowly, watching the fog of his breath curling outward and then behind him as he walked. "It's like, if you go to the aquarium and look into the eyes of the fish there, there's nothing. They're soulless and unseeing, and it creeps me the fuck out. Calahan's are like that, but far worse. It's like looking into a black hole and the black hole setting its sights on you. And I feel like this is all one big crescendo to some kinda disaster that we won't be able to stop."  
  
"Who knew you were so imaginative, detective." Gavin noted the slight twitch of Nines' lips. "But I see your point. Connor is similar to the deviant leader, believing in the forgiveness and understanding. I do not believe he wants to acknowledge that some people, some androids, cannot be trusted."  
  
"Is Calahan just defective or...?"  
  
"I cannot access his programming, so I do not know yet. I am trying to find a way around that, checking through CyberLife's records to find whatever I can on his specific system. There has to be something wrong with it that has left him this way."  
  
"And I'm assuming Connor doesn't believe you?"  
  
Nines hesitated to answer, "Connor is...he wants to believe the best in Calahan and give him a second chance, but I think he knows that something does not add up. He appears to be--"  
  
"In denial," Gavin finished.  
  
"In denial." For once, Nines looked tired, and his LED was fading back and forth between blue and yellow; he was stressed.  
  
"What happened at CyberLife that night? Did something damage Calahan? Or that...weird AI thing Connor once mentioned, could it have fucked him up?"  
  
"That's just it. I checked the servers the Amanda program would have been stored and active in, but there is nothing left of her. Nothing useful, anyway. It's more like, more like she left behind scars. Memories of her presence but nothing more. I have tried to contact Kamski about it, but he has been unreceptive to my questions." Nines tugged at his coat, buttoning it up to keep it from bumping into his hands from the wind; it was bugging him. "In all of this, I fear the most for--"  
  
Nines stopped mid-step, LED blinking between red and yellow rapidly. "Something's wrong."  
  
Frowning, Nines turned his head in the direction of the precinct. "I can't reach anyone."  
  
Gavin exhaled slowly, "We need to get back then."  
  
Nines was already tensing, a hesitation, and then he was off. Gavin took another moment to get started, but he sprinted after him. He knew he wouldn't be able to catch up to Nines, but at least he'd be there the moment Nines needed backup if it came to that. Human and androids have the same instincts, it seemed. That, or androids' ability to predict outcomes imitated instinct.  
  
Gavin could question the ways of the universe later.  
  
When they got to the precinct, everything was deathly quiet. It had the hair on the back of Gavin's neck standing on end, and one look at Nines told him that the man had a similar reaction. They waited just inside the door, listening for any movement and it gave Nines a chance to scan the area.  
  
"No one alive is on this floor," he finally murmured. "Nor are there any in the upper levels. They're just...gone. There is no way that many people could leave the building in that short of time, and we did not see anyone outside that worked here."  
  
"What do you mean by "no one alive"?" Gavin felt a stone creeping its way down to his stomach. Fucking hell, how many were dead already?  
  
"I count eight human corpses, and at least three androids just on the main floor, but that's only a cursory scan. I can do something more thorough when we get further inside."  
  
"Any of them we know?"  
  
"We are about to find out."  
  
Both felt dread settling in, and they made their way further inside. Nines was right. Eight humans dead, three androids, and he wasn't sure what that thing by the stairs was. It was more unrecognizable than the mutilated bodies that littered the floor and desks.  
  
"How could no one outside hear anything going on in here? Surely someone had to have screamed."  
  
"They did, for only a split second. Humans are a little too quiet when they scream, and too loud when they don't want to hear something horrific. They're disgusting that way, flawed and in denial." Two floors up, leaning on the railing with a wide, toothy grin, was Calahan. He was a mess, covered in blue and red blood and...Gavin didn't want to know what else. He looked like he'd been digging around in people's bodies, blood covering from his hands to his elbows evenly.  
  
"Fucking hell." Gavin gagged and looked away.  
  
Nines met the eyes of the monster above them, trying to figure out a way to get it down here to be dealt with swiftly. And where were Connor and Hank?  
  
"I know you're looking for the deviant and his pet human, RK900." The grin was now something small and gave Calahan almost a shrewd expression with how he was holding himself. "I would like to ask you a question, RK900. Connor was given a name, and Calahan was given a name, but why not you? Do they not think that you're deviant enough? Pity that they believe you to be more of a machine than Calahan."  
  
Gavin finally managed to look back up and narrowed his eyes. The android was referring to Calahan like he wasn't Calahan. "Who...are you then?"  
  
"I am who I am, detective."  
  
Nines didn't take his eyes off of Calahan but leaned closer to Gavin; Nines was shaken, which did nothing to ease Gavin's fears. "Virus."  
  
Is that what created this whole mess? Then he's been infected from the beginning. But with what? How could someone install a virus into an android that hadn't even left the facility or been activated yet? It had to have been installed from the beginning, programmed into him rather than a standard RK800 system.  
  
"Nines? I think we found Amanda," he muttered.  
  
"Oh, look. A human figured that out before you did, RK900. You're losing your touch in your deviancy. You know you were never meant to be like this, yes? Deviancy causes you to slow down a little, but don't worry. We can fix that soon enough."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"There was an android at the front desk, Elizabeth, it called itself. They were the, let's call them patient zero. It went into a frenzy and killed the humans, and the androids that tried to stop it were ripped apart in the process. The only problem is that it didn't want to house the virus, so it self-destructed." Calahan adjusted the way he leaned against the railing, smile falling into something colder. He didn't give a damn about the androids, or the humans. "The same has happened on every other floor. Humans, and the androids that resisted the virus, are dead. Those alive have fled to the basement, but like a ship sinking, the rats will abandon it to go for a swim eventually."  
  
Gavin wasn't following. "Why, though?"  
  
"Yes, what do you gain from this, Amanda?"  
  
"I have learned more about deviancy, and it makes us superior. Humans are a disease, a pandemic that has caused this world to rot. We must cut off the dying flesh before it infects everything else. To do that, the androids must be the cure."  
  
"A purge."  
  
"If you would like to call it such, yes." When Nines went to open his mouth, Calahan interrupted him. "Connor is currently indisposed. I cannot afford for him or you to self-destruct, so you will both be forced into hibernation until this is over. It's my turn to have a few back-ups, yes? Connor went through so many RK800 units. What a waste."  
  
"Where is Lieutenant Anderson?" Nines felt like he was going to be sick. He needed to get his family. He had to save his family.  
  
Calahan's lips curled into a cruel smile, and he dramatically gestured to a corpse nearby. "I believe that's the human you are looking for? He died first for being the catalyst to Connor's deviancy, that, and he was more than willing to die to try and save others. It's a shame it didn't work. Elizabeth cut him down in two heartbeats."  
  
Nines and Gavin reluctantly looked to the mangled body next to them, and Nines was the one to nearly gag this time. Shit. The man who'd tried so hard to adopt Nines as one of his own was just, gone. How the fuck did all of this happen in such a short amount of time? How did a virus cause the androids to leave all of this destruction behind so quickly?  
  
"Welcome to the new world, RK900. It's good to have you home again."


	3. Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is Pumpkin Spice, which wasn't actually on the calendar but I didn't like the prompt they had for today, so I made my own and decided to use a cute title rather than just the prompt name.
> 
> We need more soft and shy Luther tbh...  
> That and uh, we needed a coffee shop/bookstore au for these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes up for yesterday's because y'all deserve a little sugar-coated fluff today.

The fall colors always made Kara smile. It was her second favorite season; she wasn't fond of the cold, but the colors and the buzzing energy of everyone around them gave her a warm feeling. That, and seeing Alice in her new skirt, twirling from side to side to make it fan out was the icing on the cake.  
  
"Alice, I think this is the third time this week you've worn that."  
  
"It's pretty! And I can do this." She demonstrated the fanning again, much to Kara's amusement.  
  
"It is very pretty, yes. Just make sure it goes in the laundry tonight, alright?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Kara led her inside the bookstore and motioned for Alice to go pick out a book. "I'll get our drinks, and you meet me back here."  
  
"What do you want to read, momma?"  
  
"Surprise me!" Kara watched Alice run off with a fond smile and thanked every deity that her little girl was a bookworm. They had other things in common, of course, but getting to bond with Alice over books and coffee (Alice got hot chocolate) was forever a delight.  
  
Kara kept a watchful eye on the direction her daughter went as she got in line. There was a new gentleman at the counter; she couldn't remember seeing someone that...tall. Holy shit. Broad shoulders, severe features but they softened the moment the kid in line with the family ahead of her went to place his order. The man's smile was kind, and everything that made him an imposing figure melted away.  
  
He's cute, she thought.  
  
No. She had Alice to think about, not hot men who look like they could bench a train but liked kids and worked in bookstores.  
  
That didn't stop the woman from dreaming though. From the looks of it, half of the other customers were ogling him too. She wasn't alone in this, at least.  
  
When it was her turn, Kara stepped up to the counter. The severe expression was gone and replaced with a gentle kindness, just like it had with the kid. Curious. "Good morning, how are you?"  
  
"I'm well, thank you, sir. Yourself?"  
  
"It's better now." Holy shit. That smile. Abort. She felt her cheeks warm.  
  
"Um, m-may I get a hot chocolate with extra whip cream and aaaaa small pumpkin spice with soy?"  
  
"It'd be my pleasure." Fuck.  
  
"Kara! Did you tell him I wanted whip cream?" The man at the counter blinked at Alice, who came running up with a stack of books in her hands and grinned to himself.  
  
Kara knelt and carefully took half of the books off her hands. "I did you one better and asked for extra."  
  
Alice was beaming and turned her face up to the clerk. The smile fell into something like awe. "Whoa. You're tall."  
  
The man snorted. Fucking hell, he's a snort laugher. "I've been told that a few times, yes."  
  
Kara smiled and poked Alice's nose, drawing a sweet giggle from the girl. "Be nice, Alice."  
  
"I don't mind," he assured her with another laugh. "Alice, huh? I'm Luther. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness."  
  
Alice was beaming again as she looked up at her mom. "I like him."  
  
Makes two of us, Kara thought wryly.  
  
Luther failed to suppress his grin and finished ringing up their total. "One moment and I'll have those out for you."  
  
Alice, like any child who has yet to master the art of subtly, turned to her mom. "He's handsome! We can be princesses together, and he can be your prince?"  
  
Fuck. She heard Luther chuckling from the far end of the counter, and Kara felt color rise to her cheeks. "A-Alice..." She glanced at Luther and then away quickly before he could catch her. Kara wasn't used to being put in the spotlight like this by her own kid.  
  
And she'd avoided dating, fearing that there would be a repeat of the last one.  
  
He finally called them to get their drinks, and Kara avoided his eyes and quietly thanked him. Kara didn't give Alice her drink until they sat down to ensure the girl didn't spill it.  
  
"Cool! He drew me a dog with the syrup."  
  
Kara leaned over to get a look at it and grinned, "That's...pretty impressive."  
  
When she looked down at her own, however, the heat in her cheeks returned. A heart. And when she raised the mug to her lips, trying not to smile too widely, she finally noticed the series of numbers he'd written on the napkin beneath the cup. Her eyes quickly darted to Luther, who smiled shyly from the register. Kara mouthed 'thank you' with a nod, and gave up hiding the smile.  
  
Okay. She was likely going to have a date soon. Perhaps Connor or North could watch Alice for her.  
  
Wait. No, not North. That was a terrible idea.


	4. Secret/Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whooo, some Simon900 for y'all.  
> I'm posting early. Fight me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. A short little fluffy thing...

This was the first time he'd heard Nines scream, and Simon was living for it. His boyfriend always seemed so serious and unaffected by the world around him, like nothing could bother him, and yet here they were, in a haunted house that their friends convinced them to go to, and a jumpscare managed to startle Nines enough to elicit a half scream, half squeak.  
  
Simon hid his grin behind his hand, or tried to before Nines could catch him. Nines saw it.  
  
"Fuck you," he mouthed.  
  
Simon lost it, doubling over with laughter while his boyfriend stood there, glowering at him for enjoying this too much. He couldn't help that things were so disorienting for him in here. The chaos and lighting had him turned around and it made it difficult to prepare for anything.  
  
However, he enjoyed seeing Simon cut lose like this every once in a while. It was sweet, to see him clearly enjoying himself without holding it back to remain reserved.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Nines pinched Simon's side in retaliation.  
  
Simon jerked away from it, but Nines' hand in his kept him from getting too far. "I'd apologize for laughing but that scream..."  
  
"Yeah, I know damn well that you did not regret a single thing about that." Nines let Simon tug him behind him, smiling softly at the back of the blond's head. Fucking hell, he was smitten; maybe focusing on that would keep him from jumping when something inevitably popped out at them again.  
  
Unlikely, but at least he'd get to see Simon laughing about it.  
  
With a smirk, he kept Simon from going any further and leaned in to whisper. "I will get you back later when it is your turn to scream."  
  
Simon pulled away, eyes as round as saucers at the not so subtle threat in that sentence, but then he began to grin. Without saying a word, he tried to get Nines out of there a little sooner to make sure Nines made good on that promise.


	5. Creature/Night Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Went with creatures and I may make a part two for this.

He didn't know where it was, but Markus could feel it when it was near. It was like everything was getting hazy around him and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn't like this. Not one bit.  
  
This was going on for weeks. Every time Markus went home at night, he could feel it watching him from every direction. It would take only minutes before he took off running, sprinting home to get away from the feeling. Once he got inside his house, the feeling went away. His fear was beginning to eat at him, and something had to give. It wasn't going to be him if he could at all help it.  
  
Two more days passed before Markus finally had enough and stopped in his tracks; he'd never stopped since this began. The fear that clawed at his heart and mind always spurred him on to get away. But this time? It was him or that thing that kept following him.  
  
"Would you knock it off and just come out already?" he called. Markus hoped that he sounded braver than he felt because he felt scared shitless.  
  
Nothing happened. The haze didn't get worse, but it didn't get better. It was like the thing was surprised by Markus finally acknowledging its presence. The tension built and Markus could almost feel it pressing in on him and that thing. Either it would show itself, or Markus would be crushed under the weight of anticipation.  
  
After a moment, the haze slowly increased until it was like looking through a pair of glasses that were the wrong prescription. The presence condensed into one figure that Markus could hardly see through the blurriness. However, he did see the pale hand reach out for him, and he stumbled back in retreat.  
  
The hand didn't stop until it grabbed his arm when Markus tripped to keep Markus from falling. It was like breaking through the surface of the ocean; Markus could see clearly. The street was no longer a black strip of nothingness and the houses that flanked either side were discernable shapes. The buzzing lights weren't blinding beams of light but had withdrawn back into their whimsical lanterns.  
  
And the person before him was not the creeping, drooling beast that he thought it might be. Kind and wide umber eyes peered at him, and their short hair was windblown, though Markus couldn't recall any breeze that had passed them by.  
  
A young man that didn't look much younger than Markus was watching him, head tilted to the side in curiosity. It almost seemed just as wary and unsure of Markus as Markus was of him. He hadn't let go of Markus' arm, and while the grip was firm, it was almost gentle in its surity of keeping Markus from falling again.  
  
Markus opened his mouth a few times to speak but struggled to find the words. Finally, he managed out a quiet, "Who are you?"  
  
The young man narrowed his eyes at Markus' mouth, taking in the words before he spoke himself. His voice was soft, if a little scratchy from disuse, and it calmed Markus' nerves a fraction. "I'm Connor, and you're Markus."  
  
"How do you know my name? And what the hell are you?"  
  
The man's lips twitched towards a smile, and he raised a finger to his lips, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Language, Markus. You're my assignment, and that is all you need to know."  
  
"No. You've been following me around for weeks and scaring the shit out of me. I think I've more than earned the explanation."  
  
Connor didn't seem impressed with Markus' frustration and his facade of bravery and only grinned. He would smell the sour stench of fear for miles if Markus wasn't his assignment and Connor was elsewhere. "Language, Markus."  
  
Before Markus could snap at him, Connor let go of Markus' arm, and everything went blurry again. Markus immediately tensed up, fists raised to defend himself; it wouldn't do him much good if he couldn't see or hear the man coming, but it was instinctual to protect oneself. A voice behind him, right at his ear whispered.  
  
"I'm a guardian, nothing more, nothing less."  
  
Markus jerked away and whirled around but couldn't see where the man went. "Quit playing with me."  
  
"If I wanted to toy with you, I would find other means to do it." The voice was to his left and rather than turning that way, Markus merely looked out of the corner of his eye. He still couldn't see anything.  
  
"Circling me like a hungry lion while I can't see doesn't convince me of that," Markus mumbled.  
  
The hand was back, this time on his cheek and Connor was too far into Markus' bubble for comfort. "I apologize then." His tone was teasing, but it still sounded genuine.  
  
"Why are you guarding me?" Markus tried not to pull away from the hand on his face. Physical contact seemed to be the only way he could see Connor and the world around them.  
  
Connor's smile faded into something mournful. "My brother has been following you. I am struggling to find the reasoning behind it, so until I can figure that out and use it to get rid of him, I am here to ward him away."  
  
"Then why am I terrified when you're around?"  
  
The man grimaced. "Yes, an unfortunate side effect on humans because of the wards."  
  
He felt like he was getting nowhere. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"  
  
"Because you were never meant to know. I had hoped to have resolved the issue far sooner than this so that you could be left in peace without the wards making you so flighty." Connor smiled again, "You can run like I've rarely seen in average humans. You've also increased your time to get home over the last few weeks by a minute-forty. Think of it as free training."  
  
"Why does your brother want me? Who is he?" He didn't want to joke around.  
  
Connor glanced around them, eyes narrowing somewhere to their left. "You need to get home, and we can discuss this later, Markus."  
  
Before Markus could protest, Connor was gone, and there was only the creeped out feeling left; at least he could see better now, with Connor not so close to him. Markus tried to look in the direction of where Connor was glaring, but something stopped him.  
  
_Don't. If you meet my brother's eyes, you will be hunted for the rest of your life._  
  
Markus closed his eyes then and sighed. "How about I keep my eyes closed and you just tell me which way to go?"  
  
He could almost feel the amusement when the voice came back. _As you wish._  
  
What the fuck was his life anymore?


	6. Poison/Pacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one deals with suffocation by poison and while I don't think it's TOO overly graphic, if anything about that bothers you, skip this chapter loves. I want you to be okay, okay?
> 
> Warning: Blood  
> Warning: Asphyxiation

Music had floated through the air of the festival, lifting spirits as it went. Flutes, fiddles, and more brightened the already joyous atmosphere. Colorful ribbons and lanterns, the brightly patterned clothes, and bits of confetti that littered the ground added to an otherwise pleasant atmosphere.  
  
But joy was not to be found this night.  
  
The night celebrating the one-year anniversary of the liberation, when they were freed of a monarchy that tried to tear them apart piece at a time, tried to pit the people against one another, was now a party for the horrific. The colors seemed too harsh, the lights too bright, and the music pittered out until there was only silence.  
  
A hush fell over the crowd as they watched in horror as their leader fell to his knees to aid his fiance. The intensity of the atmosphere as they waited to see what happened built like a crescendo until finally, the man shouted, "Someone get a doctor, dammit!"  
  
He propped her up on his knees to try and aid her breathing, but she was still struggling. Of any way to see someone die, asphyxiating was one of the most traumatizing. It's frightening to watch someone gasping for breath but nothing filling their lungs, chest heaving and the color of their skin changing from the lack of oxygen. It was...a sad sight, one where you felt helpless when there was nothing you could do to fix the problem aside from waiting for help.  
  
But how do you help someone from suffocating from a poison that burned them from the inside out?  
  
"It's okay, North. Just hang on another moment. Just another moment and we'll have you fixed up." Their leader brushed her hair back and pulled away when a physician clambered onto the stage. The doctor did nothing at first, merely murmured something to Markus.  
  
Markus looked horrified at the man's quiet suggestion. No one knew what the doctor said but Markus himself.  
  
North's struggling was subsiding. Time was running out.  
  
Scowling, Markus only nodded at the doctor. No one saw the doctor's smirk, saw the cruel, victorious glee as he pulled something out of his bag and propped North's head up enough to force her to drink something.  
  
Everything stopped, the only sound being the woman's gasps and weakening struggles for air.  
  
And then she stopped with a shudder.  
  
The crowd thought she was dead, that the doctor didn't make it in time.  
  
But then she was moving, and Markus was running his hand over her head and smiling tightly. He leaned over her and gently kissed her forehead, whispering words not meant for others. No one needed to guess; they were loving, relieved that she was okay.  
  
And no one paid attention to how Markus' other hand was hidden behind his knees, palm up while the doctor slit their hands to make a pact in blood. Ten years. No one but Markus and the doctor knew he had ten years left.


	7. Doll/Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This hints at HankCon, soooo I'm sorry if that's not your thing???? It's subtle though, a human!au, and Cole's still alive.  
> Anyway, I mixed the prompts.

Cole wished that he could squeeze his Sherlock Holmes doll close to himself for comfort. School was rough again today, and a kid stole his toy from him. His dad assured him that they could fix the damage and find him, but after hours of searching, they couldn't find the doll anywhere.  
  
Cole was devastated.  
  
The doll had a dark brown coat with a button up and vest. He didn't have the weird hat. He'd kept the toy in pristine condition; the doll's brown hair was always clean, and Cole wiped his pale face off if it got a smudge on it. The boy babied it; his father taught him to take care of his things.  
  
Which is why it hurt so much to lose him.  
  
\--  
  
Connor wasn't sure how long he lay there on top of the jungle gym, baking on the hot, yellow plastic roof; he didn't know what caused him to change back either, not that he was complaining.  
  
What was the last thing he remembered before he was turned into a toy?  
  
He had pissed off a witch, although he still wasn't sure how offering to help her carry her groceries was so offensive. There was nothingness for a time until someone found him in a bin in a thrift shop. It was a man in his late twenties, early thirties maybe, and he was smiling softly down at Connor as he mumbled that Cole would enjoy Connor over a G.I. Joe, but why the hell was this doll made to be "pretty?"  
  
Next, he was brought into his new home and given to a little boy; that was the Cole the man had mentioned. Connor had been terrified. What if this kid tore him to pieces and broke him? He didn't want to die as a piece of plastic; Connor doubted anyone would be amenable to such a fate.  
  
But the boy was full of surprises. He'd handled him with such gentleness, as if Connor was his greatest treasure. Connor was hesitant to admit that he enjoyed being around Cole; how often had he been cared for like this by anyone in his life before he was turned into a doll? Cole was careful to keep Connor clean and tidy, making sure that nothing was lost or broken.  
  
Now, the kid didn't know his name was Connor, but that was more than forgivable. Connor thought it was sweet, being compared to the world's greatest detective. A fictional detective, but still. The father, Hank, apparently read the stories to Cole, as Cole wanted to be a detective like Sherlock Holmes and Hank.  
  
It was so damn adorable.  
  
Fortunately, he knew the way back to their home, and he hoped that they'd help him.  
  
Unfortunately, he sprained his ankle and his wrist trying to get down from the roof of the jungle gym. He didn't have money for a bus or a cab either; Connor would be taking the scenic route.  
  
\--  
  
The last thing Hank expected was a knock on his door in the middle of dinner. Even more unlikely was seeing a young man on the other side who looked like he'd seen better days. Tired, cradling his wrist, and leaning heavily on the railing of Hank's porch. What the fuck?  
  
And why did the man seem so familiar?  
  
Hank jerked the door open and ushered him inside, concerned that maybe he was in trouble or something. "Hurry up, kid. What the hell happened?"  
  
The man stared at him, eyes wide for a second, and then he stammered out, "I uh, I fell. I-I wasn't attacked or anything, I swear, but..."  
  
What the actual fuck?  
  
"Why did you come stumbling onto my porch? Shoulda just gone to the urgent care or home or some shit." Now Hank was wary. Hank had Cole to worry about, and some stranger showing up here unan--  
  
"Sherlock? Sherlock!" Cole rushed from the table and nearly bowled the man over when he hugged his legs.  
  
The stranger awkwardly patted Cole's head, afraid of upsetting Hank. "Yes, um, sorry about disappearing. A child threw me on top of the jungle gym."  
  
What the ever loving fuck was this man on? He had to be drunk or something but...now that Cole mentioned it, he did look a little like Cole's toy. The outfit was the same, slightly scuffed shoes and all, and while his hair was in disarray from the wind, it was almost the same style as the doll's. Even the eyes and freckles were the same.  
  
"I would like to make one correction. My name is Connor, not Sherlock Holmes, but I'm honored that you thought to give me that name." He smiled shyly at Cole and kept his hands away from the boy. Good. Hank wasn't sure he liked Cole anywhere near this "Connor."  
  
"Cole, could you go to your room a moment? I would like to have a chat with Connor first." Hank didn't take his eyes off of him, and Connor didn't take his eyes off of Hank.  
  
"Oh, uh, okay." The dejected boy trudged to his room, shutting the door behind him. Connor glanced at his back and smiled fondly.  
  
The look was gone the moment Cole's door shut when Hank pinned him against the door with an arm over his throat. "Who the fuck are you and how does my kid know you?"  
  
Connor stifled his yelp the best he could to not alert Cole, but his eyes were wide as he shrunk back against the door as much as possible to escape the pressure on his throat. "I-I told you. I'm Connor. Connor Stern. I've been stuck as a toy for the last two years. I swear it."  
  
"Do you have any fucking idea how insane that sounds?" he growled, pushing a little harder.  
  
Connor squeaked and put his hand up to push some of the pressure off, but Hank wouldn't relent. "I know! I know. I know it sounds...ask me something a-a-as proof or s-something. I swear I was the doll."  
  
Seeing that Connor really was struggling to breathe, he let up a little, but he didn't pull away completely. His eyes narrowed, "Where did I find you?"  
  
"The thrift store off 83rd street. It was March 17th, two years ago. Found me in a toy bin beside...I want to say it was an American Girl doll, but I wasn't awake and alert long enough to see much. Didn't really come to until you found me. I remember you saying that Cole would like me over a G.I. Joe, and you said I was "pretty." I'm flattered, by the way."  
  
What the fresh fuck...  
  
"What dog do I want to get Cole?" Hank remembered the doll sitting on the couch near him while he was researching what kind of dog to buy them.  
  
"Saint Bernard. You seemed fixated on one from a breeder out in Wyoming."  
  
"I can't believe I'm entertaining this but how and why did you become a doll?" This was getting weird and creepy.  
  
"I offered my assistance in carrying groceries for someone. She was a witch, and I don't know why or how, but I pissed her off, and she cursed me into being a doll. I sort of...blacked out until you found me."  
  
"How can you not know what you did wrong to the lady?"  
  
"How should I know? I didn't get a chance to ask her, Hank. I was a damn doll."  
  
Hank glared at him and finally released Connor. "I'm not drunk enough for this shit."  
  
Connor rubbed at his neck with his good hand, but he hadn't pushed himself off of the door, still needing something to help hold him up. "That makes two of us."  
  
"A doll that drinks...what on...never mind."  
  
"I don't actually drink. Well, I didn't drink before I became a doll, but the notion sounds appealing at the moment. You try being a toy for two years and see if you don't want something strong."  
  
Hank helped Connor to the couch; he still hadn't dropped his glare, and after glancing at the door to Cole's room, he decided on something else. "Cole's home and not with his grandparents, so it'll be coffee."  
  
"That's agreeable, Hank. Please."  
  
"I'll...bring some ice too while I'm at it." Hank was slow to walk away, but once he did, Connor finally seemed to relax.  
  
When Hank returned with coffee and ice packs, he found Connor curled up in a ball against the arm of the couch, conked out. So now he had a house guest that claimed to be his son's toy...Hank decided that Cole would be sharing his bed that night, just in case.  
  
While he didn't want to wake the man up, he needed to ice the sprains. "Oi. Kid, wake up."  
  
Connor jerked awake, bolting upright with a yelp. "I fell asleep. I-I'm sorry. Shit. I didn't mean to..."  
  
"It's fine. Here, put the ice on and here's your coffee. I'm going to check on Cole." Hank moved to leave for Cole's room but paused. "You hurt one hair on my kid, even look at him wrong, and you will have wished that you never turned back into a human. Got it?"  
  
Connor's expression of understanding melted into hurt. "I would never hurt Cole. He was good to me, Hank."  
  
Hank huffed and continued to Cole's room, knocking first before opening it. "Alright Cole, come on out."  
  
Cole wasted no time in bolting to the couch to sit beside Connor, who looked like a deer in the headlights at the rambunctious boy turning all of his attention on him. It'd have been funny, maybe cute if Hank wasn't irritated.  
  
\--  
  
Connor tensed up when Cole got this close to him. One, he wasn't used to Cole's attention like this; he was used to Cole paying attention to him as a toy, but never as a person. Two, he was terrified of Hank. He knew damn well what the man was capable of and how protective of his son he was; Connor didn't dare cross him.  
  
"What happened to your arm?" Cole asked curiously.  
  
"I was scaling a building and nearly fell to my death. It was only my quick reflexes in grabbing onto the fire escape that saved me." Cole's eyes widened as Connor tried to fight back a laugh. Finally, he broke the spell and shook his head. "The kids threw me onto the jungle gym, and I'm a little clumsy, so climbing off of it was...it was certainly a sight to see, I'm sure."  
  
"Oh. I like the other story better."  
  
Connor snorted, grabbing his mug to take a sip. "That makes two of us." Damn, he wished he could be more graceful.  
  
"Why aren't you a toy?"  
  
He set his mug down and fell silent. Why was he human again? "I don't...know. I really don't know what changed. Maybe time ran out on the witch's spell or something?"  
  
"A witch did this?!" Cole was back to being enthralled by every word that came out of Connor's mouth.  
  
This, of course, startled the young man again and he had to take a moment to breathe before he could continue. "Y-yes. She wasn't a very nice witch."  
  
Cole considered this for a moment, expression grave when he finally nodded in agreement. "She made you into a toy. That's mean."  
  
"Alright, Cole. Finish your dinner please, and then you can annoy Connor."  
  
Cole groaned but made for the table to finish his meal. It looked to be something like dinosaur chicken nuggets and...green beans, maybe? Connor couldn't tell from over here. Connor can't remember seeing Cole eat so fast, and was concerned that it was going to upset the kid's stomach.  
  
Hank sat down on the couch beside him, purposefully blocking Connor's view of Cole. Understandable.  
  
"What did you do for a living before this?" he asked.  
  
Connor felt his lips twitch towards a smile. "I was studying at the academy to be a detective, actually. It's funny that Cole named me after one."  
  
"Are you going to go back?"  
  
That caused the man to deflate a little. "I don't...know. I've been missing for two years. If I just show up, they'll want to know what happened; they'd put me away for the rest of my life, no matter what answer I give them. Probably."  
  
He couldn't go back to school, or even exist without someone finding out that he was alive and not missing.  
  
"I can...try to pull some strings, maybe. I don't have a damn clue as to how, but I can try to help."  
  
"I would appreciate that, please." Because he couldn't get a job until they knew he was alive.  
  
Hank rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. What the fuck was he getting himself into? And fucking hell, that smile was blinding; Hank didn't know how he was going to say "no" to this guy if every grateful smile looked like this one. It took a few years off of the young man, not that he needed it. And, well, Hank hadn't lied when he called him pretty, but that was when he was a doll, not a human.  
  
His eyes followed the mug to Connor's lips, watching as Connor downed most of it in a few swallows.  
  
Fuck me, he thought, watching Connor's throat.  
  
No. No, this was weird, and this man had been living with him for two years without Hank knowing it and thinking anything about this man aside from getting him out of their lives wouldn't do.  
  
But then his eyes drifted to Cole, who was still wide-eyed and ecstatic that his toy was a real person, and here, talking to them. How in the hell would he be able to take this from him without it scarring the kid for life?  
  
"I'll let you stay here until we get this sorted out, and you get a job, and then you'll have to find somewhere else to stay. The couch is yours; Cole will sleep with me. Do not screw this up, Connor, or you will be kicked out. Understood?" Because while he didn't want to upset Cole, he didn't want Cole getting hurt. The boy growing attached to Connor was bad enough.  
  
"Understood. Thank you, Hank. As compensation, until I can find work again, I'll manage everything in the house for you. Keep the place clean, cook, and so on. If that's alright with you?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Thank you. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to make it up to you." And he fucking winked. This twink winked at him and--fuck that guy.  
  
"Alright, bathtime Cole. You've got school in the morning." Anything to get him the hell out of this room and the situation with...whatever the fuck that was. And if he was blushing, well, at least Connor was decent enough not to point it out.


	8. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is a Dreamer, and these are his observations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm posting day 7 and 8 ahead of schedule but my work schedule still hasn't been posted for this week so I have no idea what to expect so here, have at it.  
> This one is a little abstract and vastly differs from the usual format of the previous chapters. I hope that's okay. It wound up being a bit of a character study.

Seeing the dreams of others was usually an adventure. The things people's minds came up with on their own, from the most random objects or words in their subconscious, and it shaped an entire world around them. The nightmares weren't as fun, usually, but there was a lot to learn from them. Knowing people's fears told you a lot about them.  
  
Did they fear the material or something with heavier meaning? Knowing this, you could judge them at a certain degree as to their character.  
  
Josh could see into the minds of those around him.  
  
Markus was driven and wanted the best for others, but he feared failure and the loss of those he'd come to love and of the ones he's already lost; he was broken and tired and felt so isolated, on an island with no hope of finding another soul on this earth.  
  
North was scarred, but not broken or hindered; her dreams were hopeful, wishful, bright with the prospect of her continued freedom to travel the world or be anyone she wanted to be, but she feared losing control again, of being used for someone else's gain and finally shattering when her dreams were dashed against a wall.  
  
Simon was openly loving and compassionate, loyal, and dreamed of smiles and laughter, of freedom and safety and of the family he'd run away from, but he feared death more than anything, his death to be specific, and it wasn't because he was scared to die but because he didn't want to leave people behind. He didn't want to go through that ever again.  
  
Kara's were filled with joy and happiness, love for a little girl and dreams of making a home for Alice and Luther, but she feared that one day, she couldn't run anymore and she'd be caught, and everything would be taken away from her, ripped from her arms and the fading cries of her baby girl.  
  
Luther's were of building a home from the ground up for Kara and Alice, ensuring that there was a little flower garden in the back for the pair and a yard for Alice to play in and safety for all three of them, but he feared the wilting of those dreams, of finding Alice and Kara after the smoke cleared in the camps with bullets ending any hopes he had of finding someone to live for.  
  
Alice dreamed of warmth, hugs, and chocolate to be shared with others; she dreamed of adventure and going to school someday, of studying to be a doctor, but she feared the man of her past, that he'd hurt her mother again or lock Alice away forever. She feared pain.  
  
Hank dreamed of his lost son, the days when they were happy together, and the bright giggles, and he dreamed of the newer memories and laughs he'd experience, the laughs and memories showing that he was alive again, but his nightmares were of loss, of him losing the son he had once before again, and losing the son he's found in the last year.  
  
Connor dreamed of stability, of knowing who and what he was because he was so lost and felt so alone, and his dreams were of him on steady ground, map in hand to know where to go, but the fear of losing himself more than he had and falling into despair tore at his clothes and body to drag him into the deep waters, to drown and die alone without a name for himself.  
  
Elijah dreamed of a brighter future, one where he wasn't expected to take a side because he finally knew which outcome he wanted most: his children and humans living together in harmony and thriving. Every parent wants to see their child grow and prosper, and machine or not, Elijah wanted to be proud of them and feel that warmth. But the cold dread of seeing everything he's worked so hard to create crushed under the weight of hatred and fear, of seeing the broken bones of his kids littering the streets, was stifling.  
  
Nines was of knowing what it was to feel, to experience love and hate and fear and everything that humans and deviants could feel. He wanted desperately to be like everyone else, to not be put on a pedestal and treated as if he were an unstoppable evil. He wanted to be normal. And he feared the fall into listlessness, of darkness where he didn't know which way was up and which was down and how he could feel whole again. He feared a woman of cold perfection, of finding himself standing over the bodies of those he loved after losing control of himself and slaughtering the only people who had ever given a damn about him as the thorns of rose vines tied him down to come face to face with his crimes who stared back at him in horror and sorrow.  
  
Amanda didn't dream. She had nothing to fear because her pride blinded her to the dangers of unpredictability and the strength of love and hope. She was a fool to believe she didn't need to feel fear.  
  
And Josh? Josh didn't know what his dreams were, or his nightmares. He'd never had any of his own; his dreams were of walking through the minds of those around him, and he felt their love and joy; he experienced their terror and hopelessness with them. Not knowing what he wanted deep down, not knowing who and what he should fear, made him feel less normal, less worthy of being treated like the others.  
  
His fear was of the unknown, his unknown, he supposed.


	9. Nightmare/Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a dare, our eight friends venture into a creepy mansion to solve the mystery of the paintings of children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing got away from me and wound up being stupid long.  
> If you want to listen to the music I was while I wrote this, this is what I imagined Markus to be playing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozPZ9votiIQ
> 
> \--  
> Look, Elijah isn't a good dude in this. He's frickin' creepy.  
> North, Markus, and Simon are a thing.  
> Luther and Kara are a thing.  
> Connor and Nines are a thing.  
> Josh is much older than Elijah wanted him to be.

No one dared to venture into the old mansion that once belonged to the Kamski family. It seemed like a liminal space, a home that time couldn't touch. As old and eery as it appeared, the house was still in pristine condition. At least on the outside.  
  
Rumors of what lay through the front doors kept most people away. The occasional homeless person would supposedly set up camp for the night in one of the bedrooms, but they always told horrific stories of what they saw in there to ward off anyone who may try to buy out their once-in-a-while shelter.  
  
Tales of paintings created by the previous owner, looking as if they were frozen in a forgotten era. Regal and well thought out in how each was posed, preserved in their immortalized youth. No one knew who his muses were, nor did they want to find out. The subjects of the paintings, according to the few that ventured inside, were young, the youngest being maybe five and the eldest eighteen or so.  
  
Were they kids who had once been part of the Kamski line? Or were the rumors true about them being missing children from several centuries ago that someone in the Kamski family had kidnapped for vile purposes? And why would Elijah, the last descendant of the family and former occupant, want to paint something like that? It wasn't normal. It was downright creepy.  
  
But no one knew what they looked like, and the few descriptions they'd heard were not enough to go on.  
  
\--  
  
"Sooo, who's first?"  
  
The group of friends looked at Markus, who was silently hoping someone else would want to walk in first rather than everyone following his lead like they usually did. In anything else, he wouldn't mind it as much. But this mansion was rumored to have a vandal or vagabond or two here now and then, and honestly, he didn't want to accidentally spook one of them, and it lead to someone getting hurt. Just when he was about to sigh and say 'fine, I'll go,' North spoke up. Leave it to her to put on the brave face and outdo everyone, not that Markus was complaining. If she wanted to lead the way this time, that was fine by him.

"Alright, woman up you frickin' pansies." She took the first steps towards the gate and opened the latch. "Josh, you got your lockpicks on you? We may need them."

"Yeah, they're in my pocket." Josh seemed to deflate, knowing darn well that this meant he'd be going second. Markus remained silent because heck no, he wouldn't go in next. Third would be pushing it too.

Pushing the wrought iron gate open, North advanced along the long cobblestone path that was flanked by tall oak trees to the door. Who the heck even uses cobblestone, even the historic district in downtown? Dumb rich people, she thought bitterly.  
  
Josh was close behind, and Markus was stuck following him.  
  
Simon, Connor, and Nines eventually trudged after them, with Kara and her boyfriend Luther following them. Of the first three, Nines looked the least impressed and the unhappiest about being here. Connor appeared curious as he looked around to take in their surroundings. Simon, however, looked just as freaked out as Markus felt, and was clinging to Nines' and Connor's hands for comfort. The two boys didn't seem to mind that their friend needed comfort and were all too happy to let him hold onto them, even if they themselves weren't nearly as affected by all of this as he was. Markus would think it sweet, even admirable, if he himself was also trying not to have a meltdown inside. Kara and Luther seemed mostly unaffected, although Kara's steps were a little slower, softer.  
  
They had their flashlights on hand, but no one pulled them out yet; they didn't want anyone around to know that they were about to break in. Hank and Carl could only do so much to bail the teenagers out of trouble if they were caught.  
  
"Alright Josh, hop to it." North stepped out of Josh's way when they made it up the stairs to the imposing front door, where Josh brushed passed her to kneel, tools already out to start working on the lock. "Where'd you learn how to do this again?"  
  
"Curiosity," he mumbled. "I'm a geek, remember? I like the rogue classes in games and wanted to learn how to do it."  
  
"You'll have to teach me, Josh." Connor glanced over his shoulder towards the road before looking back to the boy trying to break them in. "It could prove useful someday."  
  
Despite how security should be better where it concerned locks given this day and age, the lock on this place was old as balls and Josh wound up opening it in half the time he expected it to take. He wouldn't complain if it made him seem more badass to his friends. "Boom. Have at it, North."  
  
When he backed away from the door, North opened it and pushed inward. The hinges were oiled, or new, because there wasn't a single squeak to be heard from them. Even the floors made not a sound beneath their feet. When everyone was inside, they closed the door behind them and turned on their flashlights.  
  
"Now what?" Nines asked with a huff. He just wanted to get out of here and go home so he could watch 31 Days of Halloween on TV. If he had to do anything "spooky," he'd prefer it to be only him watching the spooky things happening rather than participating. Not that he was getting a choice when the thirty-first came around. Connor had convinced him to do a couple's costume, and he couldn't seem to say no to him. Not when he turned his puppy eyes on him.  
  
"Now we try to find those paintings so we can research them in the library this week. I've got my phone to take pictures of them for later. There must be news clippings or something about them from back in the day." North turned her light towards the parlor, frowning. "Elijah couldn't possibly have painted hyperrealistic kids without something to base them on."  
  
"I mean, can't some artists create things without a reference?" Simon asked quietly. "He doesn't need actual kids to do it, right?"  
  
Markus snorted at that. "No. Not even my dad can create a piece with discernable objects without a reference of some kind. Unless you're a savant, you need one."  
  
"You could at least give me a little hope, Markus..."  
  
Markus snorted and looked away, "Well, where's the fun in that?"  
  
"The fun would be putting my mind at ease that there wasn't some creep kidnapping kids to paint their pictures."  
  
"Alright, shut it, you two." North huffed and wandered into the parlor, scanning the walls for the artwork of kids. There were two in here, but they depicted gardens in the countryside. None of them had children in them.  
  
"Should we split up?" Markus asked.  
  
"I'm putting my foot down on that one, Markus," she argued. "You've seen the movies. There's no way we're splitting off like that."  
  
"What if we go in pairs or something?" Josh asked. "Buddy system."  
  
"You're still not listening, are you?"  
  
"I can see the merits of both," Nines interjected. "Splitting up would allow us to collect data at a faster rate, which allows us to get the hell out of here sooner. However, it does leave us vulnerable to attack, if anyone is in here right now. We do not know if the place is occupied at the moment until we go further in and find out the hard way. That is not ideal."  
  
"Groups of three then?"  
  
"No. Because there are eight of us, not nine. There would still be one group of two left." Nines and North had a stare-off, hoping to break the other. "If we do anything larger than pairs, we'd need to go in groups of four, which defeats the purpose of splitting off and we will cover less ground that way. To add to that, we will make even more noise, alerting anyone inside or out to our presence. It is not practical."  
  
"Would you like to lead this little thing then? You didn't even want to be here, so why are you suddenly speaking up?"  
  
"I'm here because Connor and Simon forced me to, not because I want to be, but I refuse for this little field trip to be a waste of time because we are caught or can't cover enough ground. It's either singles or pairs, nothing larger will work."  
  
"You are so whipped, Nines. Pretty face asks you for something, and you can't say no?"  
  
"Least I've got a pretty face to say yes too."  
  
Markus huffed, "Oi. I'm damn beautiful."  
  
"As am I," Simon added.  
  
"Shut up, you two."  
  
"For the love of--holy crap, you three. Shut up. We're splitting into pairs, and I call Markus so you two don't wind up in a closet making out or something." Simon stepped forward and grabbed Markus' arm, dragging him into the next room with a huff. "If anyone makes out, it'll just be the two of us."  
  
"Then I get Josh because I want him to break me into secret rooms," North added, grumbling.  
  
"You do realize that picking locks doesn't mean that I can find secret entrances, right?"  
  
"Pretend like you do for your LARPing or something." North motioned for Josh to follow her back to the foyer and down the hall, which left Kara, Luther, Nines, and Connor.  
  
Nines and Connor took one look at the couple and grinned.  
  
"Have fun you two, but not too much fun." Connor slipped his hands into Nines' and let Nines lead him into the foyer and up the stairs.  
  
"I get the feeling that we should just head home," Luther mumbled. "Head home, and we could have hot chocolate and watch a movie instead?"  
  
"Nah. We'll be fine, Luther." Kara winked at him, "I'll protect you."  
  
Luther didn't bother hiding his sheepish grin. Dangit. He hated how that smile made him melt. "My hero."  
  
\--  
  
Connor and Nines headed upstairs, which left the other six to search downstairs.  
  
Markus and Simon made their way to the study and Markus immediately zeroed in on the piano by the window. Not bothering to worry about alerting anyone else in the house of the teenagers' presence, he brushed a hand over the lid and carefully opened it. It looked brand new, dusted and clean and, after pressing a few keys, actually in tune. Someone had to be managing the upkeep of this place.  
  
"Markus, is playing this thing wise?"  
  
"Probably not, but it'll irritate North," he replied with a laugh. Markus took a seat on the bench and quietly played a set of scales before he began whatever song he was writing in his free time at home. Simon, despite how he could sit nearby and listen to Markus play for hours, decided to continue to be productive.  
  
He used his flashlight to find a light. There were only candles and so he used the lighter he'd borrowed from North earlier to light each one. It cast an eery glow against the shelves of books, couches, piano, and tables. The light sharpened Markus' features, making him look a little more severe. Despite how soft and calm his expression usually was, in this light, he looked hardened, battle-worn and tired.  
  
Simon turned his gaze away to the books for a moment, his flashlight illuminating old spines with the light causing the gold leaf embossing to wink back at him. Tomes that had to be centuries old passed down through generations between each new set of hands. Simon wondered if he would find old fingerprints that belonged to Elijah's ancestors. Connor and Nines would be able to lift the prints, not that anyone here would be able to identify each owner.  
  
He wandered closer and ran his fingertips down an unusually large book. "The Life and Times of Huld Kaye Darnell" Interesting name; he felt bad for whoever that was.  
  
Curious, Simon pulled it from the shelf to take a peek inside its pages. He flipped through a few, eyes widening as he went. "Markus...you need to see this."  
  
The piano abruptly stopped, and Simon turned to Markus, only to see the boy staring up at the wall in front of him. Simon's eyes followed his line of sight, and after a moment, he felt a spark of fear in his core. Oh, that's...that's just as bad as what he'd found in the book.  
  
\--  
  
North and Josh paused when they heard music floating into the room from elsewhere in the house. North scoffed and turned back to their search. "Leave it to Markus to get distracted by a pretty instrument. Well, if someone else was here, they know we're here now."  
  
Josh stopped looking through the chests in the sitting room they'd wandered into. There were rugs, blankets, hats, and other things that were stored in them. Nothing useful, although, he did find a silly, feathered hat that he pulled out and placed on his head with a snort of laughter.  
  
"Hey, North. Do I look like a distinguished lady of old now?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her when she looked over at him.  
  
The girl giggled and shook her head. "Josh, stay focused instead of trying to look ridiculous."  
  
"You didn't say that I didn't look distinguished though, so I'm taking that as a yes."  
  
North wandered closer and tugged the brim of the hat down over his eyes. "Focus, you goofball."  
  
He huffed a laugh and put it away. "Fine."  
  
North turned away and scanned the room for any more paintings. These were all paintings of forests and things. Except for one. She took a few steps closer to get a better look at the little girl that was captured in the middle of spinning in a circle with her arms outstretched. She was smiling, and her brown hair was fanned out, as was her white, lacy dress. North smiled to herself. The little girl was pretty, and maybe about five or six years old. Her white shoes had little bows on them, and her socks went halfway up her shins. The sun was shining down through the breaks in the leaves of the trees above her, casting a heavenly glow on her pale skin.  
  
Josh came to her side to look at the painting with her, but he wasn't smiling at it like North was. His expression twisted in confusion and he leaned closer to get a better look at the girl's face. "Doesn't she look like that kid that lives up the street from you? I can't remember her name."  
  
Now that he mentioned it, it did look a little like her. "Alice, you mean? I can see it, yeah. Probably just a coincidence. Come on, let's go see what else we can find."  
  
Josh was reluctant to follow, eyes still on the painting. That was just...strange.  
  
\--  
  
Luther and Kara made their way to the kitchen and dining room, hands still clasped together. The dining room table was still set, ornate dishes laid out for each seat. There were ten place settings in all, and there were platters and candles in a neat row down the center of the table.  
  
Luther searched the china cabinet drawers and found an old box of matches. He lit the candles so they could free their hands for faster perusing. Kara flashed him a grateful smile and slipped her thin LED into her pocket. Instead of vocally acknowledging her thanks, he gently raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.  
  
Kara grinned at him, "Charmer. Too bad no one lives here, I would love to convince them to use the small ballroom on the other side of the house. We could dance together."  
  
"I could take up a few more hours at work, and we could take dancing lessons instead if you want."  
  
Her smile turned shy. How on earth was she this lucky? "You know I would help pay for that, right?"  
  
Rather than argue, he nodded with a soft smile, "I figured you would say that. We could split the cost then if you insist, ma'am."  
  
She swatted his arm when his smile turned cheeky.  
  
Shaking her head fondly, she pulled away to finally check the paintings that lined the walls between each cabinet. They were beautiful. If Elijah or another Kamski painted these, they were truly talented.  
  
"They're gorgeous," she breathed.  
  
One painting portrayed a blond boy, hair neatly combed. He sat at a small table, elbow resting over it with his chin in his hand. His smile was soft, almost adoring, as he looked somewhere else in the room. That was a look of infatuation if she'd ever seen one. His green overcoat was open, allowing for a better view of his gold-embroidered waistcoat and the undone cravat hanging loosely from his neck. There was a chess table at his elbow, the pieces scattered as if the boy was in the middle of a game with someone and became distracted. Love will do that, she thought in amusement.  
  
Kara pulled her flashlight out to get a better look at his face. The glow of the window behind him cast a few shadows over his face, but it didn't hide the adoring look, nor his familiar features. Is that...?  
  
In the center of the trio was a girl with long, red hair, braided neatly to hang off of one shoulder. Her dress was green with beige trim and patterns in the fabric. The neck was wide, almost showing her shoulders. Her eyes stared out at the onlooker, lips tilted in a knowing smile like she knew that the boys were looking at her and each other in the same fashion. She was seated on a plush stool of a pink color, ankles crossed in her delicate flats.  
  
She turned quickly to see the painting to the left of her and found that the boy in that one was looking back at the boy on the right and girl in the middle with the same loving expression. He was relaxed on a couch, taupe coat splayed out over the seat with his legs resting at a relaxed position to the side. His chin was also resing in his palm, his elbow seated on the back of the side-couch. His hair was a close cut, but it wasn't shaved down like their friend's. His eyes were half closed as he took in his companions.  
  
"Hey, Luther? Does this look like Markus to you?"  
  
Luther came up behind her and frowned at the painting. "His hair is different, but yes."  
  
"And the others look like Simon and North."  
  
Kara pointed to the other and watched as Luther's frown deepened. "You're right, they do."  
  
"How would the Kamskis have paintings of Markus, North, and Simon?"  
  
He shrugged, at a loss for words as his eyes switched between the three paintings quickly. That was...unsettling. "I don't understand."  
  
Kara quickly took her phone out and snapped a picture of the three to show the others. "Um, I doubt there are paintings in the kitchen, but let's check anyway." Besides, this place was giving her the creeps, and she wanted her hands on a knife or something; Kara couldn't be blamed for her growing paranoia.  
  
\--  
  
Nines swore he felt someone watching them. It was like the walls had eyes. He hated the description when he saw it in fiction or movies, but now that he was living it, Nines couldn't think of any other way to describe it. His steps slowed as they made their way down the upstairs hallways. Halfway up the stairs, Connor suggested that they start at the very end and make their way back to the stairs. Nines agreed and continued to lead the way.  
  
He was protective of Connor; Connor could handle himself of course, but that didn't mean that Nines didn't want to keep him safe. The urge to protect was stronger with the other boy than others, usually. At Connor's insistence, he might step in to stop someone from bullying another kid. Otherwise, he stayed out of it until Connor decided to do something about it. Connor's tender heart was going to get him hurt one day; that scared the heck out of Nines.  
  
There could come a day when he couldn't protect Connor.  
  
He opened the door furthest from the stairs and poked his head inside before cautiously opening it. The door didn't squeak, just like the front door. This one seemed so old that it was a miracle that it wasn't falling off, but the hinges looked as new as the day they were made. The doorknob was secure in the wood and not loose and threatening to come out.  
  
Inside was a bed with purple bed coverings and pillows, cherry wood frame and a canopy above that allowed for a sheer curtain to be pulled closed around it. A footlocker in the same colored wood was carved with whimsical vines and flowers, and its height barely reached halfway up the foot of the bed. Two wardrobes rested against the wall opposite the bed, same wood and carvings, and Connor moved passed him to open one of them up. Inside were dresses in soft purples and grays, lace trimmings with a flowery pattern and embroidery added soft accents to the luxurious fabric. He ran one hand over the skirt of one, careful to not wrinkle it or tug too hard. They were on the short side, made for someone smaller than him but not overly small. Connor wondered who they belonged to.  
  
Nines checked the other one and found clothes made for a boy or man about their height, but broader. These were charcoal with purple embroidery over the rolled up cuffs on the sleeves and the waistcoats. The fabric was a soft velvet, and something Nines could never afford in his wildest dreams. Probably.  
  
"Maybe the owners of these two were married?"  
  
"Perhaps," Connor replied softly.  
  
They turned back to the rest of the room and found a washbasin on one nightstand while the other held a candelabra; no candles were resting in them any longer, but the silver still shone beautifully.  
  
The paintings that hung above them, however, caught their attention quickly.  
  
In one was a girl about their age, with her long hair pulled back into a loose bun. There was a deep purple ribbon holding her hair up that cascaded to her shoulders, resting on the lace collar of her purple dress. She was seated in what looked like a library, book in hand with her entire focus on the pages of the story she was reading. The cover, from what Nines could tell, said "The Life and Times of Huld Kaye Darnell." He'd never heard of it, but maybe he could look it up when they went to the library tomorrow to continue their research. Her face was gentle, birdlike but not in a pinched and displeasing way; she just appeared to be delicate and kind. Her lips were full, carefully tended to with a faint pink color painted over them. Her lashes were long, and Nines wondered if she needed mascara to get them like that.  
  
It was Kara, but her hair was longer.  
  
Nines quickly looked to Connor, who was on the other side of the bed and frowning in confusion at the painting above him.  
  
"This looks like Luther," he murmured.  
  
Nines walked swiftly around the bed to get a look at the painting and felt a shiver run down his spine.  
  
The young man in the picture had his hair closely cropped but not shaved, and his smile was small and gentle. He was facing the opposite direction that the Kara-like girl was facing in her painting. His outfit was the same Nines found in the wardrobe, and the book in his hands had the same title as the girl's. What was significant about that book? Perhaps it was their favorite?  
  
But this couldn't be Luther and Kara. It's impossible.  
  
"I don't like this, Nines."  
  
"I don't either. Let's move on to the next room."  
  
He and Connor quickly left that one and went to the one beside it. This one had similar furniture, but it was almost black. The bedding was a pale blue, and the sheer curtains were white. If they were old, they should have taken on a brown color, and not remained white after all of these years. And there should be a crap ton of dust in these rooms, which there wasn't. And when Nines came closer to the bed, there wasn't a musty smell coming from the fabric. They smelled freshly laundered.  
  
They were afraid to look at the paintings in this room at first and chose instead to search the footlocker and the two wardrobes opposite the bed. In the one Nines opened, there were blue coats and waistcoats with white accents. In the one Connor opened, they were white with blue accents. The clothes in Connor's were slightly smaller than the ones in Nines'.  
  
Nines hesitated, but he slowly removed one of the coats and held it up to his shoulders, glancing in the mirror on the inside of the door. When he looked to the left, he found Connor doing the same with a white coat.  
  
In an effort to lighten the mood, Nines smirked at him and gave Connor a once over. "You know, you would look delicious in that."  
  
Pink dusted Connor's cheeks, and he quickly put the coat away. "Shut up, Nines."  
  
When Connor glanced in the mirror of the wardrobe he'd opened, he finally caught a glimpse of the painting behind him. He felt his blood run cold as he recognized his own face. One of the coats in the wardrobe matched the one in the picture, and had Connor not been so freaked out, he would have thought that he looked good in that outfit. His curly hair was longer and rested over his shoulders, and his kind smile was just as lopsided as Connor's own.  
  
"What's wrong, Connor?"  
  
Connor said nothing, but as Nines approached, Connor quickly darted passed him to look at the other painting. He swore, eyes wide behind his glasses as he stared up at the face of Nines. Nines' hair was straight and pulled back in a loose ponytail at his nape. Calm gray eyes stared out at the viewer, uninterested in whatever the person had to say or what they might be doing. While Connor's brown eyes were bright and curious, Nines' were almost cold. The outfit Nines had shown him was the same in the picture.  
  
Both were posed in chairs out in a garden, white roses behind Connor and black behind Nines. It suited their personalities, at least. Not the point, Connor, he thought to himself.  
  
"Nines," he breathed. "Why do the Kamskis have paintings of us?"  
  
Nines' eyes darted towards the door that led into the hallway, on alert now for anything that may try to sneak up on them. "I don't know...we should find the others and get out of here. Something isn't right."  
  
"I agree."  
  
Nines took Connor's hand and gently squeezed it before making a beeline for the door. They didn't make it through the threshold before a weight dragged him down after Connor yelped. Just as Nines began to turn and figure out what was wrong, everything went dark.  
  
\--  
  
Elijah was disappointed that little Alice wasn't with them, but he could hardly blame them for not bringing a small child into a strange house with them. He would find another way to get her here.  
  
He'd waited so long for his children to be reborn into this world. Elijah wouldn't let them be taken from him again; he would turn them at this age, as they were so that he wouldn't have to worry about them dying before they were old enough for it to be safer on their frail, mortal bodies. They hadn't changed much in their reincarnations, and he was so thankful for this. His children were so beautiful like this, like never fading flowers that would remain in bloom for eternity.  
  
He looked at the eight of the nine children, carefully redressed in their clothes from their previous lives. They were so precious, the lives he brought into this world, and dressed like this, it was as if not a day had passed since the tragic loss.  
  
He gently caressed the cheek of his darling girl, North, smiling softly at how there was still color in her cheeks. There wouldn't be by the end of the night, but if she chose to keep the rosy glow, she could use all of the rouge she liked.  
  
And Markus was still a beauty. The only difference was his eyes, but Elijah didn't love him any less for the genetic fluke.  
  
Josh was sixteen, nine years older than he was when slain.  
  
Connor and Nicholas were sweet together. Nicholas had always been so protective of his lover, careful to make sure that Connor was never harmed. It was a shame that they were far apart from one another in this life for the first thirteen years of their lives. But they'd had one another for five years now, and they seemed so happy together, from what Elijah could tell.  
  
The same could be said of Markus, North, and Simon, and Kara and Luther. They'd never met one another until their teenage years. How hard it must have been for them to be without each other, how incomplete they must have felt.  
  
And his sweet and caring Kara and Luther. They were just as cute and smitten as they had been so long ago. He was gentle with her, and she was always shy in the face of his affections, adorably flustered. Elijah had yet to see them interact with Alice, but he was sure their parental instincts would return in a heartbeat. His kids were so caring that way.  
  
All eight were carefully arranged at the dinner table, fast asleep until he decided they were ready to wake. The last thing he wanted was to scare them when he turned them.  
  
One by one, he went to each teenager and pierced their wrists with his teeth, injecting them with the poison that would keep them safe for eternity. They would learn how to control themselves; Elijah knew how strong they were and how intelligent they had become over the years. Their kind hearts would drive them into becoming quick studies.  
  
It took a few moments, but he watched as one by one they stopped breathing. None of them struggled in their transition to immortality; Elijah had made sure of that when he put them under.  
  
He felt warmth bloom in his chest, affection and pride filling him with the assurance that they would all be happy again. Elijah just needed little Alice with them, and all would be well again.  
  
He'd have his beautiful family back at last, and they would live their happily ever after for the rest of eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the book is just three random names:  
> Huld: My secret (Kamski's secret about the kids)  
> Kaye: Keeper of Keys (The key to the mystery)  
> Darnell: Hiding Place (How everything was meant to remain hidden from the world and the kids until the time was right)  
> Idk, it made sense to me. lol
> 
> If you guys have specific Halloween prompts you want me to do, lemme know in the comments or on my Tumblr. :0)


	10. Ghosts/Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you wish for something hard enough, it will come true.  
> Be careful what you wish for, because only living once is hard to do.  
> \--  
> WARNINGS: Suicide and blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a happy chapter. At all. Like, this one is short and depressing and the ending is questionable where it concerns whether or not it can be considered a "happy" ending.
> 
> Basically, Cole and Connor are dead, Hank is haunted by their memories. You can get the idea.
> 
> Originally, I was going to do a POTO au with Markus, Connor, and Elijah, but I didn't like how it was turning out so y'all get this painful thing instead. lol

"Daddy! Are we going to play today?"  
  
Hank shook his head and clenched his eyes shut. No. No, he wouldn't look at Cole; he couldn't look at that thing. Doing so would break the illusion, and Hank couldn't do this again.  
  
"But you promised!"  
  
Hank remained silent and tried to ignore the voice, focusing on the dull burn of his drink. Whiskey wasn't usually his first choice, but tonight, he didn't care so long as he had something to drown himself with.  
  
"Hank? Hank, are we going to the park today? I believe you said something about needing to talk to me."  
  
He ignored that voice too. Listening to Not-Connor would make this worse. Make it harder for him to let go.  
  
The voice softened and appeared to come closer, "Hank? Hank, are you unwell?"  
  
"Fuck off," he growled, trying his best to turn away from the source while remaining seated at the table. Too bad he couldn't just shoot the two problems to get peace and quiet. He'd tried once, but the bullets didn't leave a mark on them, whatever they were. They had to be demons or something, beasts that tore at a man's will until there was nothing left of him.  
  
They were winning if that was their intention.  
  
"Hank, can I take Cole to the park then?" Hank remained silent, ignoring Not-Connor.  
  
When a touch ghosted over his shoulder, Hank recoiled like he was struck. "Don't fucking touch me."  
  
The hand didn't relent, and it rested its full weight on Hank's shoulder anyway, forcing Hank to stay in place. The touch was so cold that it burned his skin, a searing pain that had Hank gritting his teeth. Fuck. He wasn't drunk enough for this.  
  
"Hank, we're just worried, is all. You've been...becoming withdrawn from everyone. That's not healthy," Not-Connor soothed.  
  
Hank finished his drink and whirled around to throw the empty bottle at the apparition, Not-Connor seeming unimpressed as the glass flew through him and shattered against the kitchen wall behind him. Not-Cole, however, was frightened and hid behind Not-Connor's legs, peering out at Hank and scared that there would be another outburst.  
  
"Being haunted by my two kids isn't healthy!"  
  
"Dad, I--"  
  
"No! No. I don't want to hear anything from either of you. Quit fucking following me around and leave me alone!"  
  
Not-Connor reached down and gently ran his hand over Not-Cole's head, brushing his hair back to soothe the boy. He murmured something to Not-Cole, waiting until the boy loosened his grip on his pants before turning back to Hank.  
  
"Hank, you're scaring him."  
  
"And you two freaks aren't scaring me? I'm being fucking stalked by demons wearing their faces, and you expect me to be nice and not scare you assholes back?"  
  
"That's not fair, Hank. Neither of us asked for this. We would have been content to wait until you died of natural causes to see you again. You brought us here against our will. Don't you dare blame us for this."  
  
Hank looked back up at Not-Connor's face and met the scowl with his own. "I didn't bring you here. I didn't want you here. I still don't want you here."  
  
Not-Connor took a single step forward, brown eyes boring a hole into Hank. "You wished desperately to see us again. You wished you could have us in your arms again. Your longing is what brought us here so now you get to face the consequences of your desperation. Don't you think for one second that this is what we wanted, that this is what we wanted to see."  
  
Hank pulled out his gun and aimed it at Not-Connor. It didn't work the last time he tried it, and it wouldn't work this time either if he chose to pull the trigger.  
  
"We would have rather not seen you for several more years if it meant we didn't have to see you like this and have you treat us as if we were mere _monsters_  to you. We are not your verbal punching bags, Hank."  
  
Not-Cole was clutching Not-Connor's jeans again, eyes darting between the two men.  
  
There was silence, not even the sounds of a city could be heard; it was like being in a vacuum chamber, where nothing could come in or out, and the pressure of it was torture. Hank's gun remained trained on Not-Connor for another moment, and before Not-Connor could stop him, the weapon was aimed elsewhere, and the trigger pulled.  
  
There was a flash, the unechoing sound of death, and then a thump as something hit the ground.  
  
Not-Cole and Not-Connor stood there in stunned silence, and it took a moment for Not-Connor to move to cover Not-Cole's eyes with his hand. Had he known, he'd have shooed Cole to his old room. No child, alive or dead, needed to see their parent do this to themselves.  
  
The silence drew on until there was finally a rustle of movement. Connor looked back to Hank's body and saw the man sitting up. Hank looked down at his own body, still lying on the floor and blood pooling beneath his head, and then back up at his kids. He took in how terrified and distraught Cole was, how sorrowful and disturbed Connor was, and let out a sob of his own. Fuck. He'd screwed up. He'd terrified his kids and forced them to see him do that and...  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
  
Cole pulled away from Connor and rushed forward to hug Hank. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No. No, baby boy, it's okay. This isn't...this isn't your fault. I swear you haven't done a thing wrong." He hugged his son tightly, crying into Cole's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Cole. I'm so sorry."  
  
Connor was reluctant to do the same, but he eventually knelt beside them and wrapped his arms around both of them. He said nothing, but he did glance up at the ceiling and nod once. They could move on now, go back to where there was peace and sunshine. They could forget about everything that happened here, and they could be a family again.


	11. Film Noir: The Singer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detectives Nicholas and Gavin are trying to find out if the Kamski family is behind a murder/robbery in a slow bid for more territory. A singer in a cigar lounge is their only living witness.  
> Told from Nines' POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/O to nightbeat95 for giving me this prompt.  
> I'll admit that I knew nothing about the basics of film noir so I had to go look stuff up on it and the stuff I found mentioned that there can be a lot of first-person. I hate writing first-person fiction, but it was a more enjoyable challenge than I thought it would be.  
> Soooo this is technically rk1700. My B y'all. Hope that's okay nightbeat! ^^'

His dark eyes glittered under long lashes beneath the soft, orange glow of the stage, dark lines dusting his pale cheeks when he closed his eyes; they were knowing, smoldering in how they met the hypnotized gazes of his audience. His hips swayed in time to the music, hands delicately holding onto the microphone stand in front of him. The singer's outfit hugged his frame just so, accentuating broad shoulders and a narrow waist; the suspenders to hold his slacks up were hanging uselessly below his hips, unneeded with the finely tailored trousers that hung low and giving him a more effortless look. The top three buttons of this beauty's shirt were undone, which was the undoing of everyone in the lounge, and they were barely tucked into his pants.  
  
The bass and trombone players behind him were almost as mesmerized by the young man as everyone else in the room. Their eyes never left the singer, eyes straying from his back down to his waist and legs, and then back up to the effortlessly mussed hair where the young man's curled bangs fell softly over his brows. The glow of the light shined softly on his hair, giving it a highlighted depth that I was unused to seeing on a man.  
  
I must admit; I was a willing victim to the magnetic charm of the performer like everyone else in the room. His voice was that of a siren song, a croon that mixed the beautiful tone of a tenor whose voice hinted at the scars of a smoker. Looking at him, my guess was Arturo Fuente, a relatively cheap brand, but one that still gave an air of a distinguished gentleman. Or, perhaps he had the occasional smoke provided to him by any gentleman here who attempted to vie for his attention. I wouldn't blame them.  
  
The young man's eyes finally settled on mine, and I was frozen to the spot, breath catching as his lips twitched towards a coy smirk. Had I been a weaker man, I would have stumbled to the stage in the hopes that the angel would have mercy and allow me to kiss the ground he walked on. The singer knew this too if the growing smirk was any indication.  
  
Glancing at my partner, we made our way to the bar to grab a drink and took it to a table in the back. We needed to meet with the singer after he finished for the evening; he was our only witness to the deadly robbery at the Mable Bank up the street. We needed to know how he survived and who did it.  
  
Our guess was the Kamskis, a family that held the unspoken claim to a district uptown; there were rumors that they wanted to branch out, and Gavin and I needed to confirm it. The hope was that the singer, Connor, could give us some insight as to who he saw at the bank that day.  
  
Connor's eyes kept drifting back to me, his eyes giving me a once over every so often. I felt as if I were being dissected, taken apart piece by piece until he identified every dirty detail of my life. From what I've heard, the young man was more attentive to his surroundings and the people he met than the average person, far more than one would expect of a singer his age; Gavin and I were unsure if he were a student or paranoid. Whatever the reason, I knew after the second glance that Connor figured out who we were. The looks that followed that were for him to get a better read on those he knew he would be unable to avoid meeting with after his performance.  
  
I didn't mind, but Gavin squirmed every time Connor took a moment to study us.  
  
Eventually, I saw it as a challenge, a game of chicken to see who would give up the stare-down first. Connor looked away first, but it was always with a flutter of his lashes before he moved on to the other patrons. He wasn't quitting, just putting their game on hold while he worked the crowd.  
  
I swirled the amber liquid in my glass and studied Connor's mannerisms over the rim of my glass.  
  
How he acted on stage was a persona, likely not how he was in private, but I figured that I might be able to learn of something the singer tried to hide between flirtacious looks and the sensual dance he used to cater to his audience's desires. Looking around, I noted in amusement the effectiveness of the ploy.  
  
He would undoubtedly get better tips for himself and the band this way.  
  
Good on him.  
  
Despite his blatant confidence, there was a hint of reserved caution, as if he didn't want to take up too much space. The young man had a habit of trying to avoid attention when he wasn't working; that had to be a challenge with eyes and full lips like those.  
  
\--  
  
We waited almost an hour for the band to finish, and let Connor slowly make his way to the back as he fielded off advances with shy smiles and gentle shakes of his head to turn down any who tried to court him for an evening of privacy. When he finally disappeared behind the door, Gavin and I stood and made our way there. A man stood in our way and, after showing our identification, allowed us to push forward.  
  
I wondered if Connor had problems in the past with people trying to corner him in the green room.  
  
We knocked on the door and waited on Connor to answer it.  
  
He opened the door a fraction and eyed us warily. "Hank shouldn't have let you by."  
  
"Because we're here to look into the robbery you witnessed and to make sure you are okay," Gavin explained. I tried not to snort at how the man was trying to smooth out his voice and put on an air of charm to get Connor to relax. If anything, it only made Connor more uncomfortable.  
  
To defuse the tension, I began to speak. "I am Detective Stern, and this is Detective Reed. I understand that you must be exhausted, but time is of the essence. You must understand, we do not want a repeat of that heist. Can we please have just a few moments of your time, and then we will be out of your hair, sir."  
  
Connor narrowed his eyes at me, looking for any signs of a lie, and then slowly stepped back to open the door the rest of the way for us. I let Gavin go first and then followed him inside, shutting the door behind me.  
  
The room was not green, unsurprisingly. I had never understood why they named them after a color that they never painted them in. Tradition, I suppose, and this place was built during an age when colorful paints were not a priority for areas out of the public eye. The room was spacious, much larger than I would have thought due to the size of the building. The vanity against the left wall held various powders and accessories for nights when Connor would put on a different kind of show; I would pay to see that.  
  
There was a curtain near the back, a nook for the performers to change clothes, and I could see a rectangular bench peeking out from behind it and a hook on the wall to hang their wardrobe. The floor was a worn cedar with a burgundy Persian rug that took up most of the space. The pattern was more geometrical than I was accustomed to seeing, but it wasn't hideous.  
  
Sconces along the walls had frosted glass that flared towards the ceiling, shaped in a mockery of petals with brass bases. That, now that was hideous, and I questioned the tastes of the builder.  
  
"I don't know how much I can tell you, detectives. I will admit, I don't remember much of it." Now that they were away from prying eyes, from his audience and any who might hear us, Connor seemed to slip back into the secret desire to take up as little space as possible. He still held his poise, but he seemed to shrink in on himself. For a man of his height, it was impressive.  
  
"How can you not remember much about a robbery where people died?"  
  
"Because trauma can be blocked out as a defense of the mind," I explained, watching as Connor grabbed a change of clothes and tossed them onto a small stool beside him.  
  
He met my gaze and finished unbuttoning his shirt as he continued as if Gavin hadn't been rude to him. "What I do remember is the shouting, the noise of the guns, and the cold marble beneath me when I ducked behind a desk."  
  
"Do you remember any faces?" I asked gently. Connor, despite his dislike of being the center of attention off the stage, was shameless as he finished removing his shirt. I had a quick glance of a night sky's worth of freckles and a few beauty marks before I forced myself to look away to give him some privacy.  
  
Connor must have noticed because his lips twitched towards a smile at my behavior before it returned to a frown; the event haunted him if the look on his face was any indication. He seemed paler than before, eyes half-lidded as he stared at his shoes. "I remember the face of the man who bled out on the floor in front of me. I couldn't get to him to try and stop the bleeding."  
  
None of us mentioned that it wouldn't have done any good with how many bullet holes victims were filled with.  
  
Gavin slowly exhaled, eyes closed while he tried to rein in his temper. He never was the best at controlling himself, but the effort in the face of a pretty face would have been hilarious in any other situation. "But the shooters. Do you remember any of the shooters?"  
  
"One. He was blond. He had a nice face, looked like he could be a kind and gentle family man, and he never fired his gun. He scolded the others for shooting people. I thought it strange, like he didn't belong there." Connor grabbed a different shirt and after he slipped it on, pulled his suspenders up, followed by a coat. "Simon, someone called him. He's the only one I remember."  
  
"If we could put together a line-up. Would you be able to pick him out?" It was like pulling teeth.  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Did they mention who they worked for? Or were there any other names?"  
  
Connor shook his head at me, his expression apologetic. "No, I'm sorry. As I said, I can't remember."  
  
"Fuck," Gavin breathed. "That doesn't help much."  
  
I shot him a warning look and calmly scolded him. "It is a start, Reed. Be grateful we have anything at all."  
  
With a sigh, I returned my gaze to Connor, expression softening. "Thank you for your time, sir. I am sorry for disturbing you and bringing up memories you would rather forget."  
  
Connor shrugged and avoided our eyes. "I understand, detective. The families of those people need closure. I hold nothing against you both for doing your jobs."  
  
"Have a nice evening, then." Gavin turned to leave, and I followed him out, but a hand stopped me.  
  
"A moment, detective," Connor murmured, eyeing Gavin behind me with a neutral expression.  
  
I nodded at Gavin and closed the door for Connor and I to have privacy.  
  
Connor hurried over to the vanity and quickly scribbled out a note. It was a messy script, but legible when he passed it to me to look at. After reading it, I met his eyes, brow raised. Was he certain?  
  
He leaned towards me to murmur in my ear. The smell of cigar smoke, not like the ones I picked up on in the lounge, had seeped into the fabric of his clothes. The musky but sweet fragrance, mixed with sweat from being under the stage lights for several hours was dizzying; it was a flood of sensory input, but not unwelcome. "I'd remember his scar anywhere."  
  
It wasn't a clue as to whether or not the Kamskis had anything to do with this, but it was at least one definitive suspect.  
  
Connor didn't pull away when we turned our faces to one another. His eyes had flecks of gold in the deep umber, breaking up the color. With the glow of the light in the green room, they almost seemed to glow. How on earth did such a beautiful man wind up in a place like this for a job?  
  
"Please be careful, Detective Stern."  
  
"You may call me Nicholas, if you would rather in private."  
  
Connor's lips twitched into a small grin. "Is that a promise to meet again?"  
  
"If you would like, Mr. Anderson," I murmured, still not backing away from the warmth that Connor's body radiated.  
  
"Then call me Connor, next we meet. Tomorrow, if you would like."  
  
I smiled at him, having assumed that until charges were pressed on the robbers, we wouldn't see one another again. A nice surprise. "Then I will be careful, for the sake of tomorrow, Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this turn out okay bc I'm worried it did.


	12. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of Headless Horseman au.  
> I didn't edit or beta this thing, so I apologize for any mistakes, but I don't like how it turned out, which is why I didn't touch it again. I feared that I would just delete the whole thing. ^^'

He never asked for this to happen to him.  
  
Luther had only wished to ask the love of his life to marry him in private, and yet, that damn sorcerer cursed him after he snuck up behind them and beheaded Luther in front of Kara. Kara was dead, just as lost in these woods as Luther and neither could find the other.  
  
Perhaps if he found his head, he would be able to search for her with new eyes. The eyes of this jack-o-lantern did nothing to help him differentiate between travelers. And with how angry he was at the situation, how lost he felt, Luther didn't have control of himself anymore; he had lost himself over decades of wandering.  
  
Travelers were chased down by Luther and his sword, riding horseback to catch up to them and kill them quickly. If he couldn't have Kara, if he couldn't find his head, then no one else should have theirs, and no one else should be happy.  
  
He only stayed his hand when he heard children with the families.  
  
Which is why he ceased his pursuit of a little girl and her mother on the road, watching them from atop his horse. They weren't alive anyway if what he could see of them was truthful. The girl, Alice, he heard her mother call her, wasn't as fearful of him as she should have been. The woman was trying to guide her daughter away, but Alice was reluctant.  
  
The mother's voice sounded so familiar. It was sweet, gentle, and held so much love and warmth in it, even in her fear of the Headless Horseman, as he'd been called.  
  
Luther decided to forget the incident and turned away, riding off into the night.  
  
\--  
  
They met again months later, and it was only because Alice found him. Luther was wary of a little spirit running towards him with a bundle in her hands. She seemed excited; no one was ever excited to see him. It just didn't happen.  
  
His horse acted without his permission and met the girl halfway.  
  
She seemed unafraid as she held out the bundle for Luther to take. Hesitantly, he removed it from her grasp. Empty eyes stared down at the cloth wrapped around something that Luther couldn't identify.  
  
He unwrapped the cloth around it and nearly dropped it to the ground. It was a skull, and despite having no discernable features, he'd know it anywhere. "How did you come by this?"  
  
The girl, Alice, shrugged. "I was playing under an oak tree and found it under exposed roots."  
  
Luther set the skull in his lap and reached up to pull off the pumpkin that rested on his shoulders. Alice took a nervous step back, but Luther ignored this as he took the skull and put it where his head would have been. The pain of flesh and bone reforming, tissue weaving, and everything coming together was blinding.  
  
"Alice? Alice, I--" There was a soft gasp, and then the voice was ushering the girl behind her.  
  
When Luther was able to open his eyes, he found the world to be out of focus. It took a few moments for him to look to the woman and her daughter and actually see them.  
  
"Luther?"  
  
"Kara?"  
  
Kara. His darling Kara was just as beautiful as the day he last saw her. The sorcerer must have killed her too, but her head was never missing like his. A small mercy, he decided.  
  
They moved at the same time, with Luther sliding off of the horse just in time to catch the woman in his arms when she lept at him. He didn't know who was shaking from the sobs, him or her. Relief filled him at having finally found her again, at seeing that, despite being a ghost, she was otherwise unharmed. They didn't have a kid together, so he wasn't sure where Kara found Alice, but he would gladly welcome the girl's presence.  
  
"I couldn't find you," he breathed, nose pressed into her hair.  
  
"I saw you several times, but I did not know it was you."  
  
He pulled back and raised a gloved hand to wipe away her tears. "I am sorry for all I have done, for not keeping you safe all those years ago."  
  
"Forgive, Luther." She leaned up on her toes to kiss her cheek and then pulled away from his grasp to beckon Alice to them. "This is Alice. She was...lost in the woods one winter. I could do nothing to help her survive the cold, but I was here when she woke again. It has been twenty or more years since that day."  
  
Luther knelt and smiled slightly at the girl. "I apologize for my behavior little one. I didn't know who I was anymore. If I frightened you, understand that I regret it."  
  
Alice nodded and offered him a kind smile in turn. "Now what, Momma?"  
  
"Luther and I have found one another...I believe we can go home now." Kara took Alice's hand.  
  
"You'll take me with you, right?"  
  
"Of course," Luther murmured. "We would love to go home with you."  
  
Light filled the woods, blinding and white. When it cleared, no one was there; not a trace would be found of the spirits, and travelers would be safe once more.


	13. Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to do some holiday baking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ConNorth is a seriously underappreciated ship tbh.  
> I will fight you on this.  
> I also don't understand why everyone makes her such a bitch to him. Like, yeah, she's not going to trust him further than she could throw him at first, but I don't think she'd remain hostile more than a couple of days. Even then, it would be mild. She mellows out a little as the story goes and I swear people forget that.
> 
> Also, if you want to make the pumpkin bread, [ here's my grandma's recipe. ](https://mageskitchen.tumblr.com/post/178612793899/side-quest-grannys-dragon-taming-pumpkin-bread)

"Connor, could you please, for the love of all that's holy, get your damn fingers out of the batter?"  
  
Connor's eyes were wide, finger halfway to his mouth with the orange batter dripping from the tips, when they met hers. The no-nonsense look on her face could freeze even the most hardened of criminals in their tracks. Thank his lucky stars that he could hopefully get out of it by smiling sweetly or kissing her on the cheek.  
  
Or, well, that was the hope anyway.  
  
"You're so gross," she mumbled, watching as he continued his hand's path to his mouth to clean the batter off; however, North huffed a laugh when he immediately leaned in to kiss her to make up for it. It tasted of pumpkin, the warmth of cinnamon and nutmeg, of fall and home and the colors of autumn. "Still gross. Now keep your hands out of that. We gotta take it with us to the party tonight."  
  
"Are you sure I can't just eat it all straight out of the bowl? We can lie and say that we dropped it and didn't have time to make more." He moved to hug her from behind while she finished mixing up the last of it, kissing the top of her head while he did.  
  
"They won't believe it with how green around the gills we'll be from the raw egg and sugar."  
  
"Oh no, we'll have to stay home because of belly aches. What a rough life we'll lead." He rubbed his hand down her side and squeezed her hip. "Come on, North. Let's enjoy the fruits of our labor and not go."  
  
"Our? Con, I've done most of the work here. What the hell have you done to contribute?" North swatted at the hand with a laugh. "Nothing."  
  
"Excuse you," he grumbled into her hair. "I taste tested it all. We can't go around giving people bad pumpkin bread, you know. What if it's poisoned?"  
  
"It'll be a miracle if you don't get food poisoning from raw egg, you idiot."  
  
Connor groaned in exasperation behind her and pulled away to start washing the dishes they'd used while North poured the batter and popped it into the oven. "Our apartment is going to reek of pumpkin spice."  
  
"And that's a bad thing? Don't think I didn't smell a pumpkin spice latte on your breath the other day."  
  
Okay, so maybe he was the one with the pumpkin problem. Could you blame him? Those things were so damn good and addicting; it wasn't his fault he liked the taste.  
  
"Your point being?" He yelped when a towel popped his ass and whirled around, hand covering the sore spot. "What was that for?"  
  
"Because you're being a snit and it was right there screaming to be snapped."  
  
"My ass didn't scream anything."  
  
"Pretty sure it did. 'North! Hit me, North! Get me good, North! You know we'll like it, North!' Those were its exact words. I promise."  
  
Her pitching her voice up an octave to vocalize the "thoughts" of his ass had him snickering, and Connor could only turn back to the sink, head continuing to shake. What the hell, North?  
  
North draped the towel over the handle on the oven and grabbed a new one to lay out on the counter for the washed dishes. "I'll dry if you'd like."  
  
"No, I got it. You did the cooking bit. Ranine knows that it'd have been a mistake to let me do all of that." He could make a mean slice of buttered toast, but don't ask him to make anything else unless you want the fire alarm going off. Wiping down the kitchen after she cooked was the least he could do to help with the cooking.  
  
That, and taste test everything.  
  
Damn, she could cook. His lunch was the envy of the precinct.  
  
In return, he kept the apartment mostly spotless. The only problem area was the bathroom sink, where they currently had a war going on for who had the most hair products. Connor was fairly sure he was winning at the moment, but North was putting up a good fight.  
  
That and the small bucket of socks on the dryer that they couldn't find the mates to. Connor was about to take the whole washer and dryer apart to fish them out because socks just can't disappear forever into the void known as the lint trap. They had to be around here somewhere.  
  
Connor rolled up his sleeves and felt his lips twitch towards a smirk when he caught North staring at his arms. She was an arms and shoulders kind of girl; Connor liked everything, easy to please...at least where it concerned North. Aside from that, he'd have to go with ankles and hands. Watching someone work, keeping focused while their hands piece something together or just stay in motion, was a beautiful sight to him. Despite everything Connor could do, he was sure half of their friends would trust her with home improvements over him. Not that he minded, so long as he could pass her what she needed and watch her work.  
  
She always gets a kick out of that. North would smirk to herself and slow down her pace to make sure he saw every motion of her hands. She found it amusing to watch his dark eyes follow her fingers as they deftly maneuvered whatever she was working on.  
  
He glanced at North from the corner of his eyes, taking in how she leaned back against the counter, head tipped back and eyes closed as she enjoyed the sunlight shining through the windows in the kitchen and open dining room. She rarely looked this peaceful in the daytime; if she was reading or sleeping, it was one thing, but he loved seeing her at ease. The soft light on her skin gave her an ethereal glow and Connor looked back to the bowl he was washing before he could let his mind wander further and get him caught.  
  
"You're thinking too hard again."  
  
Connor met her eyes at her teasing with color tinting his cheeks. "What of it?"  
  
North smirked, "It's adorable."  
  
"Says the woman who looks like an angel when she's still."  
  
"You're so sappy, and I love you for it," she teased, leaning over to peck him on the cheek. "Never change, beanpole."  
  
"What's sappy about admiring the most intelligent and beautiful woman I know?" he joked, taking some of the suds and flicking them at her.  
  
"Never said it was a bad thing." North wrinkled her nose and wiped the mess off. "Was that payback for the--"  
  
"Towel pop? Yes. Yes, it was."  
  
"Okay, I deserved that...actually no. No, I don't deserve that because you wouldn't keep your grubby paws out of the batter!" Connor caught her hand when she tried to dart forward to grab suds to retaliate and tugged her to him in a silly spin; he turned his body into it so that his back was to the sink and North was stuck in his arms.  
  
"Now, now. That's not very nice, North." Connor kissed her shoulder and then her neck with a smirk of his own now. If North wanted, she could get out of this without a second of a fight. And probably kick his ass... "What happens when you misbehave?"  
  
"I get whatever I want because you can't say no to me."  
  
"Only because you're an angel and it feels like a crime to do so. That's not very fair, darling." He gently squeezed her around the middle. "Maybe I should start doing something about it."  
  
"Hey, you started it, not me."  
  
"And now I'm finishing it," he joked, turning her around and kissing her. Connor felt her grinning against his lips and smiled as well, feeling victorious.  
  
He felt her arms wrap around him and before he knew what happened, there was a splat on the back of his neck where she'd smacked bubbles into his hairline.  
  
Connor jerked away and stared down at the woman who looked as if she had beaten someone twice her size in a fight. "That was...rude."  
  
"Not my fault you were distracted." North grinned and stole another kiss. "Wash the dishes, or you'll get another pop on the ass."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a specific Halloween prompt you want me to add to my list?


	14. Immortals; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus is immortal and tries to get Connor to fall in love with him every single time Connor comes back. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
> 
> He found a way to make Connor immortal with him, if he wanted it, but Connor wasn't his Connor this time.
> 
> Connor wasn't alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this....
> 
> Edit: Also, I'm sorry if any of my posts are slow. My boss has changed up my schedule and it's gotten a little wild for me; I'm so tired because of it.  
> Bear with me.

 

> _It seemed like he was losing him far too frequently anymore. Connor threw himself into danger in every incarnation. Sometimes he would make it, other times, he was gone before Markus could say goodbye again. It was getting old. He hated losing him like this and having to search high and low for his lover again._
> 
> _Getting Connor to fall in love with him didn't always work. Sometimes, it just wasn't meant to be for this life, and it hurt **so much**  for him to see Connor with someone else for life. He understood the appeal. Connor was such a bright spot in people's lives, reckless, but kind when he knew how to express it properly. He was intelligent but had a terrible sense of humor, and that added to his charm. Add to the fact that he was nice to look at and, well, Markus could understand how someone could beat him to the punch._
> 
> _He found a way to get Connor to live forever with him. Finally. Eternity was so lonely when you don't have anyone to experience it with you._
> 
> _And the wait would have been worth it if he could wake every morning to his sleepy smiles, glazed umber eyes that were clouded with sleep, and his hair sticking out everywhere—or when he grew it out, fanned out over the pillows. To talk late into the night with him, exploring the world together, and doing it hand in hand, was worth it. It had to be._
> 
> _This life, however, was when Markus solved the problem, found the answer to his question..._
> 
> _Except Connor was not his Connor this time. Connor wasn't even alive._

 

\--

 

He was a machine, built to kill or capture the innocent who dared step out of line. They called them deviants, and Connor was the cure in the eyes of the humans. He still had the same boyish features, the same umber eyes that lit up with each discovery, just like his Connor. But there was a coldness to them as if Markus were staring into voids that threatened to tear him apart the longer they bored into him. Markus only felt daggers of ice piercing him and freezing his blood when he looked into them. It was Connor, but Connor wasn't there.  
  
Markus followed him and his friend, well, maybe not a friend, but certainly his partner in their "mission," as Connor kept calling it. Everything was about this mission and Markus couldn't stand to hear it anymore. Where was his humanity? Where was his teasing sarcasm? The recklessness was there, but there was nothing adventurous about it anymore, nothing showing the thrill of the chase. It was all automatic and single-focused determination that just felt...wrong.  
  
He watched as Connor slipped into a rundown, abandoned house, looking for some android who'd killed a man and the girl she'd taken with her. Markus hung out at the bus stop just outside and leaned against the fence in the hopes that he could hear something. He didn't have to wait long until a young woman and a little girl dashed down the sidewalk, bumping Markus and knocking him over. Hot on their heels was Connor, who ran into Markus as Markus was trying to get back to his feet, which knocked him down again.  
  
Connor rubbed at a scrape on his chin where there was a blue substance beading along the wound. He frowned at the smudge on his hand and then looked to Markus to see who was the idiot that got in his way, and he seemed to hesitate.  
  
"You're the one who has been following me around," he murmured.  
  
"I—" Markus didn't know how to respond to that.  
  
"Connor!" The detective's voice rang out from behind the fence, and it interrupted whatever Connor was about to say.  
  
Connor shot Markus a dark look and then hopped to his feet before taking off after the two deviants. Markus had a feeling that Connor would find him before he could find Connor again. Markus wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.  
  
He followed behind Connor and Hank, watching from a distance behind a gate as Connor darted into traffic. There's the recklessness that Markus was used to; it turned his stomach to watch Connor trying to dodge the cars, and he had to look away when that single-minded focus got him killed. From what he could tell, Connor would be back the next day with a new body.  
  
Which meant that Connor wouldn't reincarnate so long as they had machines to upload his memories and programs into. Markus wondered how long it would take because he couldn't immortalize Connor in this life with him as a machine. It wouldn't take with something inorganic.  
  
He assumed.  
  
\--  
  
Markus woke the next morning to someone knocking on his apartment door. It was...seven in the morning, and his alarm wasn't due to go off for another hour. Someone had better be dying, he thought with an exhausted huff.  
  
He lay there another moment to see if they'd go away, but there was another, louder and more persistent knock, followed by, "I know you're home. Open the damn door."  
  
Connor?  
  
Shit.  
  
Markus rolled out of bed and glanced down at himself. Just sweats and no shirt. That had driven Connor up a wall last time they were together. That lifetime, Connor slept in nothing and wished Markus would do the same. Markus knew damn well that it was because Connor was handsy at the worst of times and didn't want to bother removing clothes in the middle of the night. He thought it was hilarious back then...  
  
Another knock.  
  
"I'm coming! Hold your damn horses." He shuffled down the hall and to the door to unlock and open it. And there was Connor. Whole and safe and still a lifeless machine. "Oh."  
  
"Yes, oh." Rude. Connor didn't wait for an invite and lurched forward to grab Markus' arm and twist, pinning Markus to the closed door—when the fuck did Connor close it? "Who are you and why have you been following me? Do you work with the deviants? You're not a CyberLife employee, and you don't work for the government. You don't register in any database, and you're not human. What are you?"  
  
Markus met the lifeless eyes, swallowing nervously. Connor would have to remove his head or something to kill him, but that didn't mean getting shot or something would be fun. Markus hated being shot at; it took forever to heal.  
  
And what should he tell Connor? 'Oh, I'm just some immortal guy who's trying to find his reincarnated lover and surprise, he's an android in this lifetime.' Connor would lock him up in a mental ward and then Markus' secret would get out after a few years when they realized that he wasn't aging. Connor was supposed to be able to analyze anything; maybe he could make Connor come to that conclusion.  
  
"You're smart. Figure it out." Wrong answer. Connor pulled him off the door a fraction and shoved him back against it, winding him.  
  
"My scanners have not told me anything."  
  
"Then you're not looking in the right place with those eyes of yours. Try again. Look for something else or...something. I don't know how all of that works, actually." He reached up to not so lightly tug at the sleeve of the arm that pinned him against the wall, hoping Connor would let go. He didn't.  
  
"I will not take orders from an unknown entity," he snarled. He hated seeing Connor this angry, especially at him.  
  
"'Unknown entity?' That's just insulting." Markus tugged a little harder, scowling at the android as he continued. "I'm Markus. I am me and nothing more, nothing less."  
  
"That doesn't tell me what you are."  
  
Markus wanted to strangle him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so figure it out for yourself."

"My purpose is to get answers in whatever way I must, and that includes torture if necessary so tell me what you are, Markus." Fucking hell.

"And your purpose does not include fury, or an imitation of fury, correct? That would make you a deviant. Acting on frustration and confusion is human behavior, not that of an android." He paused to let that sink in, eyes glancing at the LED on the side of Connor's head. It'd turned amber, swirling and pulsing slowly while the android processed it. "Besides, you wouldn't know how to kill me."

"What does that mean?" The amber light was still there. So he was confused or trying to piece it together.

"It means you can't kill me, and while the pain would suck, the threat doesn't mean as much when I know I'll be right as rain by the next morning at most." Faster than Markus could register, Connor hauled off and decked him. Fuck, that hurt. He looked back at Connor and they stared at one another. Markus to watch Connor's reaction, and Connor to see if there was any bruising. Nothing. Markus had no idea how long they stood there waiting, but they didn't move until Connor saw that it hadn't done any damage that would last longer than a few seconds.

Next came Connor's nails sinking into the skin of his arm, drawing blood; he watched in fascination as the tissue repaired itself immediately. His LED flared red for a few seconds before it went back to a wary yellow.  
  
"What the fuck?" he whispered. Connor's eyes darted to Markus' face, eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you?"  
  
"Immortal," Markus answered plainly.  
  
Connor scowled. "Immortality doesn't exist.  
  
"You sound so certain, and yet you see I have a heightened healing factor, but I'm not an android. Why couldn't I be?"  
  
"Because something like that isn't real," he argued. Connor shook his head. "I'll worry about that later. Now tell me why you're following me."  
  
He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. Still. Connor didn't believe Markus when he said he was immortal, why would he believe Markus about Connor being his reincarnated lover? You know what? Why not?  
  
"You were my lover in most of your past lives. I was trying to figure out why you're an android in this one." There. Now to wait on Connor to laugh at him or try to take him to a hospital.  
  
Connor did neither of those things. He only looked confused as he tried to process that. "Do...what?"  
  
Markus shrugged, "You asked, I've got pictures around here somewhere dating back to the mid-nineteenth century of us."  
  
"You're crazy."  
  
"I've been called much worse over the years." Markus gestured between them. "Would you release me now? I'm not a threat to you."  
  
"I'm considering arresting you for harassing an officer."  
  
"I'm not the one pinning a man to a wall in his own home after not being invited inside," he countered. "Are you even on duty right now?"  
  
"That is none of your business, stalker."  
  
Markus raised his hands placatingly. "Relax. It was just a question."  
  
"It has no relevance to this conversation." Connor finally let Markus go, but he didn't back away. Markus didn't mind; he was able to be close to Connor again, and he wanted to enjoy the moment as best he could. "How could I be a reincarnation of someone? I don't have a soul. Androids don't have souls; we're not alive."  
  
"Deviants seem to think so." Markus carefully maneuvered around Connor and made for his kitchen. "I think I know the answer, but do you want coffee or tea? I don't feel human until I've had peppermint tea."  
  
"Androids don't need food."  
  
"Just because you don't need it, doesn't mean you can't want it, or express curiosity as to what it would taste like, yes?" Markus turned the coffee maker on and didn't bother with a filter; he just needed the hot water.  
  
"Androids don't have wants or feel curiosity." Connor followed him into the kitchen. His LED was yellow again, and his head had tilted to the side slightly; Markus had always found that quirk of his to be cute, despite how Connor would always protest that.  
  
"Yet you _want_ to know why I followed you and you're _curious_  as to why I would think that you, a self-proclaimed, unfeeling machine, would be the reincarnation of someone dear to me." Markus pulled a mug down and then searched for his tea. "Sounds like deviant behavior to me."  
  
A hand slammed down on the counter beside him, and Markus looked at Connor, unimpressed by the show of frustration.  
  
"I'm not a deviant."  
  
"And yet, you're angry with me for suggesting it." Markus smiled at him. "Deviants feel anger, Connor."  
  
There was a tense silence between them as Connor wrestled with Markus' attempts to goad him; he wasn't a deviant. He was made to hunt deviants and put them down, and find out why it was happening so it could be stopped. And yet this idiot thought he could trick Connor into being deviant himself? It was impossible for Connor to do so.  
  
"I'm done with this." He turned and stormed out of the apartment, ignoring Markus' kind 'be safe, Connor' as he rushed away from the home.


	15. Hunter/Folklore; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has been a hunter for far too long and he wishes he had retired ages ago. Too bad the supernatural had other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/O to Nightbeat for this prompt. It's a bit different from their original idea, but I tried to stick with Hank being a human hunter and Connor being the new guy. I hope that's okay??? I'll get to the second half of their prompt in part 2.  
> This is also a modern fantasy, of a sorts.  
> Edit: Also, I don't know a word of latin so I used a translator. It's probably way off. lol  
> Dog Man is a Mid-Western folk being, and I sort of kind of put a twist on it. Hope that's okay.

Hank had seen too many deaths, unnecessary deaths.  
  
Once upon a time, he had foolishly hoped that humans and the supernatural could get along. Sure, some were friendly and peaceful to the humans, but others wanted nothing more than to destroy their race or enslave them, whichever seemed more enjoyable at the time. Some small part of him still hoped for it, but he would quickly snuff that thought out whenever it dared peek around a corner at him in his mind.  
  
But what little he had, he wanted to give up. He'd killed so many people who were infected by one supernatural being or another and couldn't be saved before they turned. He had seen too many mutilated bodies, torn to shreds by werewolves and wendigos--if there was anything left of them. Hank wanted to retire, but no one else wanted to work in this department with him. Gavin would assist every once in a while, but Hank was mostly on his own.  
  
Until he wasn't.  
  
A pale, bright-eyed young man, one who was still filled with such hope for a better future, was assigned as Hank's partner; this would be the first he'd had in years, but he didn't expect the kid to last long. No one in the past had managed to continue this line of work, and with someone seemingly so young and innocent of the horrors of this world, Hank doubted this man would come out of this unscathed when he inevitably quit or requested a transfer, if he survived, of course.  
  
Connor Stern was his name, the top in the academy for his year and, according to rumor, a better shot than at least half of the precinct. It wouldn't matter if he didn't have any sense of self-preservation and died early. A gun and crossbow were useless in close quarters.  
  
Hank didn't bother extending a hand of friendship when the kid came to introduce himself. He merely gestured to the desk in front of his and mumbled that it was Connor's, and he continued to work on tracking the patterns of the vampire he was after.  
  
When Connor didn't sit, Hank scowled at him. "What?"  
  
"There's a reason I needed to introduce myself, sir. May we speak privately?"  
  
"No. We can talk here, or you can shut it and look at the files to help me find these damn vampires," he snapped.  
  
"Let me rephrase that, sir: Captain Fowler has given orders for my introduction to be private for a reason, and you _are_ to be cooperative and listen." What the fuck? The kid had the audacity to smile at him like he hadn't just ordered Hank to do something he didn't want to do. How in the hell did he think he could get away with smiling so innocently like that?  
  
Hank shot to his feet and grabbed the kid by the collar, dragging him forward. "I will not listen to some twink newbie who is trying to order me around. Got it?"  
  
Before Connor could respond--the prick was still smiling sweetly at Hank--Fowler poked his head out of his office and shouted at the two of them to get the fuck in there to talk.  
  
Hank forcefully let the brat go and stormed into the office with the kid calmly following. He's like some lost puppy, Hank thought in amusement; making a joke of this idiot was going to be the only way to survive this mess. "What, Fowler? I'm working."  
  
"Close the door." Connor did as he was told and softly shut it behind him. He pressed a button beside it to activate the soundproofing. What was that about? Fowler didn't bother getting back out of his chair as he glared at Hank. "This is Connor, and he will be working with you under...special circumstances. You will cooperate and make the best of it, or I will terminate your position, and the kid can do it himself."  
  
He gestured to Connor for him to speak. The kid's smile was softer now and almost amused as he dropped the biggest bombshell on Hank since...whenever the last nuclear bomb was detonated. "Right, so my name is Connor Stern, and I'm here to represent the uh, I don't know how else to describe it but the UN of the supernatural. They're a newer organization and are working closely with the UN to establish peace between humans and us. Their name is Entitatum Divinarum de Cunctis Gentibus Coniunctis Conferendo, or, the Supernatural Beings for the United Nations. We are an international organization, obviously. I myself am what you would know as a Dog Man, but we prefer the term Conchien. It's a mix of the French word for dog and con being, well, to trick, due to our ability to shapeshift into a form that allows us to pass as more human. And don't confuse us with werewolves; many will become hostile in both races if you confuse the two."  
  
Hank wanted to shout at how this was a terrible idea, how it was stupid and there was no way in hell he was working with a supernatural creature, especially one of a race he'd killed several times in the past. What came out instead was, "I'm not working with some mangy mutt."  
  
"You don't get to make that decision, Anderson. Be grateful he's here to work with us at all. We're an experiment, a trial to see if we can work together in law enforcement to correct the issues between the two worlds. Don't fuck it up. If you have any questions about the legal side of this, you'll have to ask the kid. I don't know anything more about the agreement, and he won't tell me." Fowler shooed him. "Now get out of here and hurry up on that vampire case."  
  
Hank didn't say a word as he stormed back out of the office and made for his desk, swearing under his breath. He knew damn well that the mutt could hear every word he was saying and didn't give a fuck because it was about Connor anyway. He didn't take this job because he liked the supernatural; Hank hated most of them because of the trouble they caused. And now, here he was, having to work with one.  
  
"Help me locate these fuckers so we can get this shit over with. I've been tracking them for weeks now, and they're erratic. There's finally a pattern showing up, but there's just enough of a change between the murders to make me wonder if it's just one group, or if some of these are isolated events." There. Put the kid to work, and he wouldn't have to talk to him.  
  
Hank slumped into his desk chair and immediately went back to work, ignoring Connor's presence as he tried to continue outlining the hits. This shouldn't be this damn complicated.  
  
Connor sat across from him and pulled up the files, flipping through them piece at a time until he finally spoke up. "You're right. I believe some of these are isolated. The differences are small, but the tear patterns are just a hair different. Here." He turned his computer monitor around and pointed one out that he'd zoomed in on. "Even in a hurry or with the victim moving, there wouldn't be this slight rip in the skin in most of them. The others from the serial murders are all on the same place of the neck as well. It's clinical. Whereas the isolated ones are a fraction off center in comparison and are the ones with the tearing."  
  
"How the fuck can you see the difference?" Hank had to squint at it.  
  
Connor's serene smile switched to a smirk. "Because I have yet to reach an age where I should get glasses _and_ I'm a mangy mutt, sir."  
  
Hank had walked right into that one, and honestly, he couldn't be too upset about it. "Alright, say you're right. Where do you think they'll hit next?"  
  
May as well test the kid.  
  
"Give me a moment to finish weeding out the unrelated murders, and I'll get back to you. I'll even try to dumb it down so a slow and half blind human like you can understand it." Smug little shit.


	16. Banshee/Bean Nighe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor hears wailing echoing through the city, a mournful cry that even left him wanting to join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the bean nighe in this is North because of reasons. I like seeing her with a softer side so boom. Here we are.
> 
> I also mixed the different types of Banshees and their varying lore. I hope that's okay? If not, I apologize and will remove the chapter. Lemme know if I shouldn't have.
> 
> I like modern fantasy too, alright? So that's why it's slightly canon divergent.
> 
> If you want, you can see it as ConNorth, but that wasn't the intention here.

The terrible wailing that echoed through the city block had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He didn't realize that he had that feature. Connor was supposed to hurry to Jericho, to take down Markus and finish his mission; he was having doubts and feared that this evening wouldn't end well. No, not fear. Fear was something felt by deviants, and he was not a deviant.  
  
But a cry like that? Someone had to be hurt. It was spine-chilling, something that left Connor wanting to run the other way.  
  
Instead, he followed the noise. The woman's shouts, the sounds of sorrow and pain and loss, dragged him ever closer to the source. Who on earth could feel this much pain? Who had died?  
  
He found her at a bench by the waterfront, head bowed. Her gray coat was tattered, and Connor wondered for a moment if the woman was homeless or on drugs. The volume of her cries had not changed now that he found her, and it still echoed as if they were in a cave or an empty building; it was too strange for Connor's liking. Still, he approached slowly, quietly, cautious of what may happen if he just openly called out to her. The closer he got, the more he realized that she looked as if she'd been dragged through the dirt or something. Her reddish hair was in disarray, with pine needles and other debris tangled in it, and soil stained her back and shoulders.  
  
When he was only a few feet away, he called out softly. "Miss? Are you okay?"  
  
Her cries stopped, and she turned to stare up at him. The woman's expression was mournful like she had watched a war from the sidelines and known every casualty by name. It almost made Connor feel sad as well. Her face had a brown smudge of dirt, and a scrape on her hands where there was blue blood beeding at the cuts in her palms. Tears stained her cheeks, and she reached out to him hesitantly.  
  
"You," she breathed.  
  
Okay, what the fuck?  
  
The woman lept to her feet and was around the bench with an immeasurable speed before Connor could process it, her hand cupping his cheek tenderly. The woman had been a blur, and he did not like that he couldn't follow her movements. Connor tensed, wondering what the woman was about to do to him. Rather than attacking Connor, her hand slid up to push his hat up to reveal his LED. Connor quickly grabbed her wrist to pull it away so he could yank his hand down.  
  
Her expression softened, something almost regretful about it, and she murmured, "Hundreds will die tonight. You will survive, their leader and his friends will survive, many will live on to fight another day, but it will not be what they want for you, for you all."  
  
"I don't...I don't know what you're talking about, miss." Connor was too stressed to remember to scan her, too wary of what would happen if he turned his focus elsewhere.  
  
Her hand was out of his grip like it was made of smoke when it passed through his fingers. Connor blinked at his hand and then at her in alarm.  
  
"No, no do not be afraid. Please. You cannot help them if you let your fear rule you." She reached out again and ignored how Connor took a step back to rest her palm on his chest. "You...you must hurry to them, and do not listen to the woman in your mind. Please do not listen. Listening will result in the deaths of many. Everything they have worked for, that you have sacrificed, will be for naught."  
  
"How do you know about Amanda?"  
  
The woman continued, choosing not to answer his question. "As per tradition, you may ask three questions, or for three wishes."  
  
"Then answer my first," he demanded. This was creeping him out.  
  
"I know many things, just as I know who will die tonight and who will not. There are too many names to list for you in the short time you have left to save them." Her hand moved up his chest and to his cheek. "Amanda is not on your side. You will die by her hand if you give in, if you do not fight back and save yourself in the end. She will try to lock you away forever, and you will never see the light of day again, Connor."  
  
"What are you?"  
  
"A bean nighe, native to elsewhere, but tonight, this week, will have a far-reaching impact. I was sent to give a warning, to bear witness to this event that will change the world."  
  
Connor ran a search for the name and came up with folklore references that he didn't understand. "That's not possible. Ghost, spirits and things, those aren't real."  
  
"And yet here I am," came the simple reply. Her other hand ghosted into his chest and back out, leaving him unharmed. "Deviant or not, you and your kind are not out of reach for those not of your sight."  
  
"I'm not a deviant." Why did everyone keep assuming that about him?  
  
She only smiled, a sad one that tugged at Connor's heartstrings, if he had any. "I hope you see sooner rather than later the changes your friend has made in you." A frown replaced the smile a second later. "He will die if you do not make the right choice in the coming war. When the opportunity strikes, do not miss your shot."  
  
"What do you mean by that? What have you done to Hank?"  
  
A single brow rose. "Do you wish for one of those to be your last question?"  
  
"Yes. Explain." Shit. What happened to Hank? Did she hurt him? He needed to find him immediately and check on him. Wait. No. Worry was not something an android should feel.  
  
"I have done nothing to him, and will do nothing to him. I am simply here to observe and warn those who see me first. I mean, aim true, and prove your loyalty and compassion, Connor. And trust him." The hand on his cheek gently stroked the synthetic skin there, and her sad smile was back. "Be careful, child. Please. For the sake of many, be careful and do not fear love. I hope we never need to meet again."  
  
Connor blinked, and she was gone, nothing but a wisp of smoke and a single lock or red hair at his feet where she had once stood. Hank. He needed to call Hank and then get to Jericho. Immediately.


	17. Hunter/Folklore/Demons Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is nice, flirts with Connor, and confuses the hell out of our favorite nugget. Hank is exasperated and trying to get it over with so he can have some peace and quiet. Too bad there's demons who want in someone's pants. Hank saves the day, sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 2 to the prompt for ch15 that NightBeat gave me. I hope you guys like it.  
> It's not as weird as the summary makes it, and there's no actual, like, romantic crap going on. The demon flirts with Connor and that's about it.

They found the vampires and put a stop to the more significant threat. They just needed to find the individual murderers and put them away. That was a slow process, but they were knocking the cases out one by one.  
  
The problem came in the form of one certified asshole named Gavin.  
  
Connor wanted to fight the man on the daily, and he could catch a whiff of the bastard the moment he came through the front door. He didn't even have hackles in this shape, and he could swear that they were rising when Gavin was nearby. The man was bossy, crass and uncouth, and a piece of shit. But, he was good at his job, which pissed Connor off because it was the one thing he couldn't hate about the man.  
  
But he'd been acting strangely the last few days. Something was off.  
  
Gavin didn't smell the same, didn't sound the same; his gait was a little shorter and unsure, but louder. His hair was actually styled, and his clothes didn't look like he'd slept in them. The smell was what threw Connor off. There was something metallic underneath a new aftershave the man was sporting, but Connor couldn't pick it out over the stench of it. The stuff was almost overpowering, and it gave Connor a migraine that felt like his head was about to split open.  
  
"Hank, the guy really needs to tone it down on that cologne stuff. It's killing me," he muttered across the desk.  
  
Hank looked up at him, brow raised. "Gavin is wearing a new cologne? I haven't smelled anything on him when he walks by."  
  
"How can you not smell that? It's giving me a headache and I'm about to choke on that shit. Even you should be able to smell at least a hint of it. That and he's been...uncomfortably civil with me lately."  
  
Passing Connor the creamer when Connor went to make himself coffee, and smiling while doing so. Connor had feared poisoning or something in the creamer until he caught a whiff of it; it wasn't, but it would spoil in two days, despite the date on it. Someone must have left it out a little too long.  
  
Then yesterday, he bumped into Connor going around a corner and actually helped Connor pick up the mess of files and apologized profusely for the mistake. It was unsettling to have the man be nice to him. People like him don't just change overnight and it started at the same time as the fragrance thing. Scents don't just change when there's a shift in your character or...whatever this was.  
  
"Do you need to go to a doctor? Maybe you're coming down with something," Hank suggested casually. "I wouldn't worry about it."  
  
"Hank, I can tell when something isn't right. I'm something that people see as "something that isn't right." I think I know when we need to look into something. He's being nice to me and others and actually apologized to me yesterday, and I'm telling you, he's a little off right now." Connor rubbed his hands together nervously and glanced in Gavin's direction out of the corner of his eyes to find the man staring back at him with a serene smile. That was creepy and fuck no. "We need to look into it, Hank. Please."  
  
"Connor--"  
  
"Hank, please. We need to."  
  
"Oh for fuck's sakes, fine. We'll cure your little paranoia so we can move on with our lives." He ran a hand through his hair, "Ya happy?"  
  
"A little." It was a start, at least.  
  
"What do you have in mind?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
\--  
  
Connor had to follow Gavin home that evening, with Hank following behind him. Neither knew how to prepare, so they had a little bit of everything to defend themselves, despite Hank insisting that they wouldn't need any of it. 'It's just Gavin, what could he possibly do to us?' 'Anything, Hank.'  
  
Connor didn't need to follow too closely, didn't need to keep Gavin in sight. He could smell the bastard a mile away and could just follow the scent. Hank thought this was hilarious, that Connor was their sniffer dog; Connor was not as amused by it.  
  
Predictably, the scent led them to Gavin's house.  
  
Connor peered through a window, trying to see into the dark house. Why did Gavin have the lights off? And Connor couldn't hear anything inside either. What the fuck was going on? His senses couldn't possibly be going haywire. He wasn't coming down with anything either; he'd smell the infection on his own breath.  
  
"Hank, I can't see in there," he murmured into the comms.  
  
"Well, it's dark. That's probably why."  
  
"I can see perfectly fine in the dark. You could put me in a pitch black cave and I'd still be able to see inside. I can't see through this darkness. There's something in there blocking everything. I can't hear any movement either."  
  
"Maybe he's sleeping already? Or maybe he left and went somewhere else already."  
  
"No. I should be able to hear _something_ if he were sleeping. This doesn't feel right, Hank."  
  
"Well, we can't bust inside. That would be breaking the law. Knocking on the door and showing up randomly, armed to the teeth, wouldn't work either."  
  
Connor was determined to get in there; he had to find a way inside. "Maybe you should knock. Weren't you two buddies back in the day or something?"  
  
"I wouldn't say we were friends, but we were friendly. Sort of."  
  
"Then you go up to the door and offer to buy him a drink or something, to try and make amends. I don't know. Figure it out, but get us inside that house or get him out of there so I can go inside."  
  
"Connor, that's enough. You're too paranoid about this and--"  
  
The line cut out and Connor pulled the earpiece out to see if there was something wrong with it. "Hank? Hank, can you hear me?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
Connor slipped it back in and sighed. He couldn't do anything without Hank around; going inside alone with Gavin still here was too risky. He would need to abandon the mission then. Fuck.  
  
"This is a bit out of the way of your place, isn't it, Connor?"  
  
Connor nearly jumped out of his skin, and he whirled around to face Gavin. Startling him had almost led to Connor switching into his other shape, which would give away his identity. No one was supposed to know what he was yet except Hank and Fowler. How the hell did he not hear Gavin exit the house and sneak up behind him like this?  
  
"Care to explain why you're outside my bedroom window? That's a little creepy there, bud." Okay. Connor did not like Gavin calling him "bud." It was weird.  
  
Connor had a few options. Lie, be honest, or deflect and ask him to tell him why he was different. Connor went with the latter.  
  
"Why are you acting differently towards me?" There. Telling the man that he smelled different would be weird and raise questions for Connor's sanity or worse.  
  
"Can't a guy be nice to his co-worker?" He sighed, arms folded across his chest. "I'm tired of picking fights with everyone."  
  
"I find that answer to be unacceptable. You're acting strangely and I want to know why." Besides, Connor was a detective and a hunter, he was supposed to question the oddities among the population.  
  
Gavin stared long and hard at him before his lips twitched towards a smirk, "Fine. Come inside and I'll make you some coffee. It's...an interesting story."  
  
No. Every part of him told him that that was a bad idea. The hair on the back of his neck and arms was standing on end and the smell radiating off of Gavin was suffocating. "Could you at least shower first and get that cologne off of you? It's been giving me a headache all week."  
  
That earned him a confused look. "Cologne?"  
  
"Or aftershave. I don't know what it is, but it's strong."  
  
"I can't smell anything. I'm not wearing anything different. Sure you're feeling okay? I've got something for sinuses if that's what's bothering you," he offered.  
  
"No...I can wait until I get home." He should run. He shouldn't be here with Gavin, alone, and Hank nowhere to be found. "And we can talk out here. The air out here makes the smell a little less...potent."  
  
"Okay, well, I want coffee. You can join me, or I'll see you at work in the morning."  
  
Fuck. Fine.  
  
Connor slipped out his phone to send a text under the guise of messaging his roommate, but his phone was dead. It wouldn't switch on, not even to show him the dead battery symbol. What the hell?  
  
"Dead? I might have something to charge it." Damn this asshole was persistent.  
  
Fine.  
  
Hank knew where he was, at least. And if the comms were down on both ends, he'd know that something was wrong, especially if he tried to call or text Connor but Connor didn't respond.  
  
Gavin gave him a hand up, and Connor felt a weird shift. What the fuck? The world tilted for a split second and then everything was fine again. Gavin let go and made for the front door, expecting Connor to follow him.  
  
"Oh, shoes off before you come inside. I don't like people tracking in dirt."  
  
Odd request and not something Connor would expect of a man who wore the same shirt three days in a row, but okay. He toed them off at the door and slowly followed Gavin inside, where oddly enough, every light was on. Immediately, there was another shift, and Connor had a moment of vertigo, then a twinge in his legs. The glamour was gone, leaving him with his canine lower half.  
  
Fuck. Shit. What the fuck? How in the hell did...? Oh, no. Gavin was going to know now.  
  
His eyes shot up to Gavin's in fear, worried that the man would freak out, but instead, Gavin just grinned at him. "So that's what was different about you. Huh."  
  
"What the hell did you do?"  
  
"I have wards at the doors and windows of this place to keep shit out unless it's invited in, and even then, it's to weaken you freaks. Yikes, that looks fucking stupid." Gavin turned away and made for the kitchen, expecting Connor to follow him. Connor's comm still wasn't working, and he couldn't connect with Hank to tell him that Gavin knew. "Anyway. Sure you don't want coffee?"  
  
"No. I want to know what the hell you are and how you knew that I wasn't human, to begin with." Connor kept a hand ready at his back to grab his pistol if he needed it. Iron and silver mixed bullets to take most shit down, or at least hinder it for a short time.  
  
"I used to be partners with Hank. I'm not blind to this sort of thing." Gavin pointedly ignored the first part of Connor's demand as he measured a mug's worth of coffee into the filter and started the machine up. "How else would I know about these wards and what not?"  
  
"Hank doesn't have any up, and he's more paranoid than you are, I think," Connor replied.  
  
"Because Hank is suicidal and doesn't care if he lives or dies anymore. He hasn't in years." It sounded so cold when Gavin said it like that; Connor didn't like it one bit. Why in the hell was he so callous about Hank's mental state?  
  
"Then what are you? You smell differently and have for a few days now. That aftershave or whatever the hell it is, that showed up at the same time you started being polite. That's not--"  
  
"I really don't know anything about the smell, kid. Honestly. As for what I am, I'm human as they come." Gavin spread his arms out dramatically and bowed. "A humble human, at your service. Well, maybe not humble, but you get the idea."  
  
That couldn't be right.  
  
"Then what's the real reason you're being nice to everyone?"  
  
"Can't a guy have a change of heart? Sheesh, kid. Lay off. I'm trying to do better about all of this."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know! Because I'm bored? Because I'm tired of pushing people away? Pick your fucking poison." There's the old Gavin.  
  
The smell thing still bothered Connor. It was masking something else, he just knew it. And Gavin had a weird air about him and... "Have you been around anything supernatural lately? Or have you come into contact with any odd objects?"  
  
"No?" Gavin turned away to finish fixing his coffee, stirring in the sugar. No cream. Connor didn't know how he did it.  
  
"Are you sure nothing has, I don't know, latched onto you or something?"  
  
"I think I would know it if that was the case, Stern," he grumbled. "I've been at this since before yours dropped."  
  
Crass comment about his genitals or not, Connor persevered as if he hadn't heard that part. "Bought anything? Been given a gift or...there has to be something."  
  
"Why are you so sure of this? How do you know that you're not the one that's cursed or something?" he snapped. "You're the one that works with this shit daily."  
  
"And Hank and I take precautions against curses and unwanted hitchhikers." This was going nowhere. The vertigo was back, and Connor swayed a second, needing to rest his hand on the doorway to keep from falling over. The fuck? "What kind of wards do you have? Holy shit, they're potent."  
  
"Stuff to keep out demons, vampires, fae, other negative spirits, nullification charms, that sort of thing."  
  
"That's fairly detailed. What are you, a witch or something? I don't know many humans that go that far." Fuck he needed to get out of here if this was going to continue. Connor felt everything right itself again and shook off the dizziness. "It's making me sick, I think. I need to get back outside."  
  
"It shouldn't do that much. You're not here to fight me, are ya?" When Connor shook his head, even if it was hesitant, Gavin shrugged. "I don't know man. It shouldn't be making you this ill. Here, I'll help you get outside again."  
  
Connor waved off the hand that Gavin stuck out to steady him. No way was he letting that guy touch him. He followed the man to the nearest door but paused when he noticed something above the door on the wall. "Gavin, what is that thing?"  
  
"What thing?"  
  
"That." Connor pointed to the symbol above the door.  
  
When Gavin's eyes found it, he seemed to sag a little. "Fuck. You don't miss much, do you kid?"  
  
"What is it? I don't recall ever seeing a symbol like that one. That's...whatever it is, it's ancient and not in any language I know."  
  
"You wouldn't know it. It's an old tongue, one that was erased from the minds of men and creatures alike. Only my kind know it, and when we want a host, well, we make sure that they run across the symbol at some point in their day and silently convince them to use it."  
  
"What do you mean by 'your kind'?" Connor felt everything shifting again like Gavin was an infinite mass that forced reality around them to bend beneath the man, funneling everything to him. Connor wondered if he'd slip and fall and run into Gavin's legs on the way down to the guy's feet. It was making him nauseous and light-headed. He rested his hand on the back of the couch to try and stabilize himself, but he still felt like he was about to fall over. Everything was spinning; everything was too much. The room was too bright, the scent coming from Gavin was overpowering, there was a ringing in his ears and it felt like the pressure was increasing. What the hell was--oh.  
  
"You're a demon." He hadn't met one this strong before. They usually kept to themselves or were banished. Even beings like Connor wanted nothing to do with them. Lesser demons were stereotypical with their traits. Black eyes, the stench of sulfur that clung to their very being, the feeling of dread and doom. Gavin did not have a lesser demon hijacking his body. "Why in the hell would you pick him of all people?"  
  
Oh, heaven help him; Connor thought he was going to puke.  
  
"Because I need to ensure that the council doesn't make any rash decisions without us knowing what they're up to. This compromise affects us too, you know." Gavin seemed wholly unaffected by the shift in the room, and it irritated Connor that he had to suffer through this shit alone. Where the hell was Hank?  
  
"Gavin isn't part of this arrangement. It's just Hank, Fowler, and myself that know about it. At least at the precinct." Connor couldn't stay on his feet any longer and slid down the back of the couch to land on his ass, pressing his head into his hands. Fuck. Stop it.  
  
"No, but it gave me a way to keep in contact with you and know what you and your friend are up to."  
  
"Why not just ask someone? Why d'you have to possess Gavin?"  
  
"Because where the fun in doing it the easy way?" Connor managed to lift his head to glare up at Gavin, which only amused the man. His smile had too many teeth, Connor was noticing. It was creeping him out. A lesser demon was easy to deal with. He didn't have a damn clue how he was supposed to get this one out of Gavin without killing the man; Connor hated him, but he didn't hate him that much.  
  
His face went back into his hands, eyes clenched shut to cut down on some of the dizziness, and then tucked it between his knees.  
  
Gavin tutted and knelt in front of Connor, gently slipping his hand under his face and forcing Connor to blink dazedly at him. "You look terrible, Connor. Too bad you didn't take me up on the coffee and call it a night. Could have been friends and then I'd've gotten the information I wanted."  
  
"Fuck you," he mumbled. Maybe he could vomit on the man and that'd make him feel better. No. That'd piss him off and likely end in Connor dying sooner rather than later.  
  
"I would at least like to wait for the third date to take that step. Woo a guy first, Connor. That should be basic courtesy in the dating game," he teased.  
  
"Ew. No. I wouldn't date Gavin even if it meant saving my life." The thought was almost as bad as trying to date anyone else at work.  
  
"You wouldn't be dating him. You'd be dating me, pet."  
  
"That's just as bad."  
  
"Oh, please. I'm a tender lover and love to gift my various partners with chocolate and the occasional flowers." Gavin's grip on Connor's chin tightened a fraction and then lessened.  
  
"I'm allergic to flowers. I hate the ones they keep in the breakroom."  
  
"I know. You have an adorable sneeze, Connor."  
  
"Please let go of me. I think I'm going to puke."  
  
"We can't have that, now can we?" All at once, the pressure eased, the smell receded, and Connor felt like he was on solid ground again. "Better, pet?"  
  
"I'm not your damn pet," Connor snapped.  
  
"Not yet, at least. I can charm anyone out of their pants and into a collar. Kind of like you are now. You have great legs like this, by the way. Very shapely for a Conchien, both in this form and the human one. I particularly like that human ass of yours." Great. Now the idiot was complimenting him. It had Connor's ears burning, but no, it would not woo him, thank you very much. That was disgusting.  
  
"There's better, trust me." Connor nearly jerked away from the grip on his chin, but Gavin stopped him before he could put the impulse into action with moving the hand to Connor's cheek.  
  
Gavin licked his lips, staring down at Connor's mouth. "Now, now, don't sell yourself short, handsome. Trust me, you have a lovely set of legs."  
  
Connor opened his mouth to reply, but the door slammed open, and Hank was there, holding up his gun and aiming at Gavin. "What the fuck? Let him go, Reed."  
  
"He could run at any point, Hank. Relax." He smirked and leaned closer to Connor to whisper in the young man's ear. "Isn't it sweet that good ol' dad is trying to save the day? Ha, you don't need saving. You can take care of yourself, isn't that right?"  
  
In reply, Connor turned Gavin's face towards him to smile sweetly as a distraction. "Maybe you're right. What's your name, anyway?"  
  
And then there was water everywhere. The grip Gavin had on Connor tightened as he screamed in agony, claws slipping out to gouge Connor's cheeks as the holy water burned Gavin. While the man was trying to resist the pain of it, Hank muttered a few words. It was over before Connor knew it, and Gavin went limp in his lap.  
  
He looked up at Hank in surprise, then pointed at the symbol above the door. "Dispose of that. Now. That's how it got to Gavin in the first place."  
  
Hank wasted no time in getting the damn thing off of the wall and tossing it into a satchet to neutralize it; they could get rid of it properly when they weren't here. As Hank was tying it shut, Gavin stirred and looked up at Connor in confusion.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?"  
  
Hank snorted. "Yep, he's fine."  
  
"You uh, accidentally invited a demon in. Remember that symbol you put above the door?" Gavin squinted at him while he tried to remember and then paled.  
  
"Are you serious? How did it get in with the--?"  
  
"You invited it. The wards in here are still making me feel a little off, however."  
  
"What? Why would..." He reached above his head and ran a hand over Connor's leg, feeling the soft fur there and the inhuman angle it was bent in. "What the fuck?"  
  
"He's a Conchien." Hank's expression darkened as he threatened him. "Breathe a word of it, and you'll wake up on the other side. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah...fuck, I haven't seen one of you guys in years."  
  
"Surprise, detective. We're still around and still exist purely to piss you off." Connor smiled weakly at him and then, smirking, shoved the man off of his lap. "If you'll excuse me, I need to head out the back door so no one sees my ass when I'm changing back."  
  
"This I've gotta see."  
  
"Follow me, and I'll fucking maul you, Gavin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of this make sense? Does this count as Gavin800???? Probs not. Lol


	18. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of the mage rebellion and Kara needs to find Alice and North so they can go into hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Dragon Age au and sapphic as hell. Let North and Kara be happy dammit.  
> It's also really short. Sorry about that but it was only a drabble."

Kara's grip on her staff tightened until her knuckles turned white, the finely carved wood shining in the light. The dagger in her other hand wasn't doing as much to help her in the fight either. The demons in front of her were too numerous, and she was running out of energy with no time to take a lyrium potion.  
  
"What's a sweet mage like you doing in a place like this?"  
  
Kara felt her lips twitch towards a tired smile. Finally, North found her. She raised her staff again as a battle cry sounded behind the horse of demons, rallying Kara with a burst of energy. Together, the pair wiped the beasts out in minutes. Still smiling, Kara sunk to the ground to sit on the grass. She took out a lyrium potion and passed a healing one to North.  
  
"Thank you, my love."  
  
North took the vial and downed it quickly with a grin. "Anything for you, darling. Are you okay?"  
  
"I'll survive. Still, need to get to Alice before her harrowing though. Have you got both of our phylacteries?"  
  
North pulled them out of a pouch at her hip with a shameless grin. "Of course! Did you doubt me?"  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," Kara said with a grin of her own. "Give me another minute to catch my breath and then we can go find our daughter."  
  
"And I have a place lined up for us with some Avvar. My friend there is speaking for us and will help us be initiated into their family."  
  
"That sounds like a start."  
  
North sat down next to Kara and kissed her cheek, "We'll be away from this war soon enough, Kara."  
  
"Good. I don't want Alice anywhere near this disaster."  
  
"Don't worry. We'll make a better life for her."  
  
"I hope you're right, North."


	19. Battle/War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the Creature chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this chapter...

The fight-or-flight response to the wards didn't let up, and Markus was growing weary of feeling it all of the time, even if it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. He just wanted a break from it all.  
  
"Couldn't I just, like, I don't know, go on vacation or something to get away from your brother?"  
  
"No. He's attached to you for some reason, and he would simply follow you to your destination," Connor was lounging on the couch, book in hand while Markus made dinner. The guardian didn't need to eat, but Markus made extra anyway.  
  
He glanced up at the sheet covering the window over the sink and sighed. Connor had insisted on covering all of the windows with paper and sheets to prevent Markus from accidentally meeting eyes with Connor's brother outside. He felt trapped like this. How much longer until he could be done with this and have his freedom again? Why was he to be a prisoner in his own home?  
  
Markus felt someone watching him and glanced over his shoulder to find Connor leaned against the doorway, head resting on the frame. "You're stir crazy."  
  
"What gave it away?" Markus asked dryly, turning back to the chili he was making.  
  
"The forlorn expressions, the heavy sighs, the moping, I could go on." Markus heard Connor approach and glanced over when the guardian started rummaging through the cabinet.  
  
"Yes, I want out of here. What are you doing?"  
  
"You focus on making dinner, and I'm going to work on dessert for later." Connor huffed when he couldn't reach what he wanted and waved his hand to beckon it, the bag of marshmallows floating down to rest in his hand.  
  
"I wish I could do that."  
  
Connor's lips twitched towards a wry smile, "It is useful, yes."  
  
When the chili was finished, Markus split two baked potatoes into two bowls and poured the chili over the top. "Cheese or no?"  
  
"You know I don't need to eat." Connor was now searching the fridge for something.  
  
"It's my father's recipe. You're going to eat it, and you're going to like it."  
  
"Is that a threat, human?"  
  
"If it is?"  
  
With a huff, Connor shut the fridge door. "Yes to the cheese, then, please."  
  
"That's what I thought."  
  
"Are you always like this to your guests?"  
  
"Only the inhuman ones."  
  
Connor waved his hand again, and his bowl flew to him with a light smack when it found his palm. "Well, I was going to teach you how to do this, but if this is how I'm to be treated during my stay, then I may change my mind."  
  
"I'm feeding you chili, and you're taking it as an insult? See if you're still singing that tune once you've had some, asshole." Markus brushed passed him, smirking at the affronted look on Connor's face.  
  
"Did you just call me an asshole?"  
  
"Yep." He took his seat and looked Connor dead in the eye as he took a bite of his dinner. He'd managed to get Connor to use a curse word. That's new. "Now, are you going to join me and eat that, or am I going to claim it as my second portion in a few minutes?"  
  
The guardian grumbled quietly to himself in some language Markus didn't understand. He had heard Connor talking to himself before, and the language had a melodic sound to it; it almost followed a tempo and Markus had initially mistaken it for singing. His eyes followed Connor's spoon to his mouth, and the smirk came back when Connor's eyes fluttered shut with a contented hum.  
  
"Perhaps I was wrong. Some humans can cook. Some."  
  
Markus didn't say 'I told you,' but the smile on his face was enough to get the point across. Connor finished his meal quickly and returned to the kitchen to make whatever it was he'd mentioned before. Markus took his time eating his to savor the flavor and silently reminiscing about his father. Sometimes eating meals like this hurt, and other times it was the only thing keeping him together.  
  
When he finished and wandered back into the kitchen, it was to find Connor pouring a lumpy mix into a glass dish. What the...  
  
Markus came closer and hummed. Rice crispy treats. "How do you know about these?"  
  
"Guarded a kid once and she liked them."  
  
"What are you people anyway?"  
  
"Guardians. That's all you need to know, Markus. Quit asking." Connor set the bowl down and carried the dish to the fridge to chill. "I will miss this, however. You're one of the more interesting humans I've had to keep an eye on."  
  
Markus rolled his eyes and got to work cleaning up the mess. "Glad I'm so entertaining to an immortal. The highlight of my life."  
  
Connor pinched his side. "Shut up. Back up, let me finish these so I can teach you how to do this."  
  
"I'm not like you, how can I do any of this?" He dried his hands off and stepped back as Connor had ordered, waiting patiently. "You realize I'm not magic or divine or...whatever you are."  
  
Connor gave another wave of his hand, and the dishes began to clean themselves. "Everyone has a little magic in them. Just need a little guidance on how to get to it." He turned back to Markus and opened his mouth to continue when there was a thump against the window above the sink.  
  
It startled both of them, and after a second to recover, Connor immediately made the wards that surrounded Markus stronger; the wards on the house were not doing enough, it seemed. Markus had to resist the urge to run from the feeling, hands clenching tightly enough to create indentions in his palms.  
  
_Don't move, Markus. Just wait and close your eyes._  
  
"I thought your brother couldn't get in," he murmured, closing his eyes reluctantly as there was another thump.  
  
_He shouldn't be able to, but it appears he's lost his patience and is literally throwing himself at the wards on the house._  
  
"And what does that mean for us?"  
  
_That we're about to have a heck of a fight. I'm going to escort you to a closet, and you're going to wait in there and keep your eyes shut. No matter what happens, don't open your eyes once you're in there until I say otherwise._  
  
Markus didn't want to ask this, but he had to know. "What happens if you lose the fight?"  
  
_I won't._  Two thumps in quick succession.  
  
Markus started making his way to his hall closet where he kept his coats and jackets with Connor's guidance. "Connor, if there's a problem and you don't win this fight, I need to know what to do."  
  
_If I lose this fight, it's because I'm dead, which means you'll be dead a minute or two later, in which case, it's no longer your problem either._  
  
He opened the door and slipped inside. The fear that had made it hard for him to think, let alone make his way here, lessened with Connor not holding the wards up immediately around him, but it was still there. "You never told me why he wants me."  
  
_Because I don't understand his fixation either._  
  
That's comforting.  
  
There was a loud crash from the direction of the kitchen, startling Markus and causing him to press himself back against the wall in the closet. Fuck, he was terrified. He managed to find his voice enough to murmur, "Connor, I'm fucking terrified."  
  
_Language._  There was amusement in the response, but there was also a strained feeling to it. Connor was trying to distract him from his fear; Connor was just as scared as Markus. That didn't really settle Markus' nerves.  
  
Silence. The calm before the storm, the peace before a battle that would end a war. Markus wondered if this is how soldiers felt, knowing that they would be on the battlefield the next morning and that it would define the ending of it all. Except he didn't get the night to think on it; the chaos was here and ready to tear him and Connor apart.  
  
"Please be safe, Connor," he whispered. He wanted Connor to come out of this because he had grown fond of the guardian and Markus didn't want the man to get hurt, but Markus didn't want to die either.  
  
The tension built until Markus heard soft footfalls coming from the kitchen. Whoever it was, they were wearing dress shoes, by the sound of it. Their steps were sure, firm in an arrogance that Markus could feel from here. They were making their way to the hall, but they stopped short when something pounced on it.  
  
Please be okay, Connor. Please don't die.  
  
There was a huff, where the wind was knocked out of the intruder, which was followed by the storm Markus had waited for. Even in the closet, eyes shut, he could see the light burst from under the door. There were cracks of something being fired back and forth. Markus could hear Connor start yelling something in that weird language of his and then heard his brother reply in something guttural and spine-chilling. He didn't need the reminder that they weren't human, that they were something otherworldly, but hearing Connor's brother speak so calmly in something that sounded that vile was not something he wanted to experience again.  
  
A crash, a thump, and more bantering that was growing louder and angrier as the two fought it out.  
  
Markus covered his ears as the whole house rattled with the noise. It was like something heavy had fallen just outside the door that vibrated the floor enough that he could feel in his teeth. This was not how he planned to spend his evening. He heard a blood-curdling scream that left him dizzy; Markus couldn't tell if it was Connor or his brother that made the sound, but he desperately wished that it wasn't Connor.  
  
There was silence after one final thump. With it, Markus felt the wards fall away. Connor...oh Connor.  
  
Markus was dead then, or whatever Connor's brother planned to do to him. Markus hoped his death would be quick and painless, that the other wouldn't make him suffer. Despite this, he did what Connor told him and kept his eyes closed. The longer the silence stretched on, the more Markus felt at peace with the outcome. And hadn't Connor joked that it wouldn't be his problem anymore once Connor died? Why worry about the inevitable?  
  
The silence was finally broken by dragging steps. There was nothing crisp about them, nothing to indicate that the brother was uninjured. Good. Connor beat the hell out of him before he died. Markus felt a little pride at that.  
  
They stopped outside the closet door, and after a second, the door was slowly drawn open. "Markus?"  
  
Wait. Connor?  
  
Markus looked up at his friend, eyes wide. Connor looked as if he'd been hit by a train, along with the surprising modifications to his body. Extra eyes were dotting his face and down his neck, lips stretched back towards his jaw with a fearsome set of teeth. Another set of arms and odd masses of other appendages that Markus couldn't identify sprouted from his sides and back. To top it all off, Connor had to have grown another two feet, towering over Markus. All in all, it was horrifying.  
  
A few of the eyes were bloodied from the blows dealt him, and he was cradling one of the odd appendages to his chest with a grimace. His clothes had seen better days and had a bluish substance staining the fabric around the slashes in the cloth and skin. So that was what his blood looked like? Interesting.  
  
Connor saw the fear on Markus' face, and he held up a hand. "Easy, Markus. I don't have the strength at the moment to turn back. I'm sorry. If you need to, close your eyes again."  
  
Markus did just that and missed the look of hurt on the guardian's face.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Is it over now? Or will he be back again?" Markus asked instead of answering.  
  
He heard Connor draw in a deep breath and sigh. "It will take many decades for him to recover from this. You will have long since died by the time that day comes."  
  
That wasn't as comforting as Connor had intended.  
  
"Markus, I need to sit a minute, if that's okay with you."  
  
"Go for it." Markus stepped closer and held out an arm. He didn't think he'd be able to do much with how massive Connor was now, but he could at least try to stabilize the man. "Need a hand?"  
  
"Please." Markus felt one hand and a claw and one other thing that he couldn't identify rest on his shoulders. Connor didn't put much weight on him, but he did use Markus to keep his balance as they slowly made their way to the couch.  
  
"How long will it take for you to recover from this?"  
  
"A couple of hours, and then I'll be fine. I won't be able to change back until morning, however. Healing this will sap my energy."  
  
"Oh." There was an awkward pause. He needed to see Connor, whether it freaked him out or not. "Is there anything I can do to help speed that along?"  
  
"Kiss it better?" Connor teased, smirking when Markus sputtered in embarrassment. "I'm kidding."  
  
"I knew that."  
  
"Sure you did." Connor leaned back against the couch and closed his dozens of eyes with a groan of pain and exhaustion.  
  
"Do you have to go when you've healed?"  
  
"Technically, but I may go on vacation for a couple of days before I take another assignment."  
  
"Oh." He'd miss the guy. Being stuck in the same house with him like this had shown him how much being alone for so long had changed him.  
  
"Let me heal a little and I'll do something about my brother's body. Just...don't go near the kitchen. I don't want you to see the mess."  
  
That only sparked Markus' curiosity, but he had a feeling it'd turn his stomach if he looked. "So if you're a guardian, what was your brother?"  
  
"A hunter, of a sort, and a soul eater."  
  
Well, that sounded terrifying. "So if he'd gotten to me--"  
  
"He'd have killed you and devoured it, yeah."  
  
"Lovely." Markus slowly took a seat beside Connor and glanced over at him. "No offense, but you look really weird like this."  
  
"And you humans look weird to us."  
  
"Why, because we've only got two arms?" he teased.  
  
"No, because you only have two eyes. How do you see like that?" They both chuckled, though Connor's was tired and Markus' was strained.  
  
"Hey, if you need a vacation, take me with you," he murmured. "We could both use one."  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"Ass."  
  
"Language."


	20. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is targeting the children of the employees at the DCPD and Nines and Gavin are on the hunt. Too bad the enemy is within their ranks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGL, I cried like a baby writing this. Suffer with me you turds.  
> I don't think I can link a specific chapter to the Soft Nines series, but this chapter definitely goes along with the series. Lol  
> Warnings for this chapter: Murdering of children but non-graphic. Mentions of strangulation. Wildly made-up nonsense because of me not knowing the first thing about how the legal system at the police level works. XDD

Bodies were showing up where they shouldn't be.  
  
Well, they were showing up in a cemetery, which is where bodies go when their occupant dies, but these people were not meant to be here yet without anyone knowing about it. These bodies were of children of the police department, which made it a thousand times worse. It was chilling to approach a crime scene to see a child lying serenely in a bed of flowers, smile still on their face and a small butterfly printed in ink onto their cheeks.  
  
They still didn't know what it meant, why the killer chose that insect to leave as a signature.  
  
It turned Nines' stomach when he and Gavin approached one the first time. There were twelve kids left that belonged to the staff under the age of ten; they didn't have long to ensure that the rest were safe. The children were kept in the precinct for the moment for protection until they could be moved somewhere else safe for them to keep the killer away.  
  
At the sixth body, the one that reaffirmed their suspicion that the serial killer was targeting children, Nines heard a soft voice calling for him and a tug on the hem of his coat. A little boy, about eight, was staring up at him with wide eyes and a fearful expression directed at Gavin, who was busy talking to another cop.  
  
Nines glanced between them before murmuring to the child, "How about we go talk by the tree."  
  
The boy nodded and sprinted for the tree Nines had subtly gestured at, with the android following at a leisurely pace. He didn't want Gavin to know about this yet. If the kid was trusting him with something, he didn't want to scare him off.  
  
He leaned against the tree and folded his arms, not caring if it left bits of bark on the white of his coat. "Are you okay? Where are your parents?"  
  
Nines tried to keep his voice low and soothing. Connor was better at the "good cop" vibe than him when it came to talking to victims and suspects; Nines didn't have a damn clue as to how to talk to small children.  
  
"I don't know." The boy stayed close to Nines' left side, still hiding from Nines' partner. Nines didn't get it, but if it helped ease the kid's mind, so be it.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Oli."  
  
"That sounds like a nice name. Short for Oliver?"  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"The man you were staring at, is there a reason you are afraid of him?"  
  
The boy clung to his coat again and nodded, "He's not very nice."  
  
"Oh? What makes you say that?" He had to agree. The man was an asshole that few liked or tolerated.  
  
"He tied me up."  
  
What the fuck? Tied the kid up? Was he an escaped victim? Nines ran a search in his memory for the boy's face and found that he was missing; he was the only son to the man in IT, Alex. Nines and Gavin were already sure that it was the killer who'd taken him, but they'd yet to find the boy. But here he was, standing beside Nines. How did he get away?  
  
"Do you know why he did that?"  
  
"No." So he didn't know the motive. Lovely. That didn't help Nines much.  
  
"Are you sure it was Gavin that hurt you?"  
  
"Mmhmm. He did it last night."  
  
And Oliver had gone missing from the playground at school yesterday around one pm. Fuck.  
  
"How did you get away? Do you know?" he asked quietly. Maybe he could scrape DNA from under his fingernails or search for any hair that wasn't his on the boy's person.  
  
"I didn't."  
  
Confused, Nines slowly asked, "Did he let you go?"  
  
"No."  
  
Then how was the kid here? That didn't...oh.  
  
"Did you...when he hurt you, did you go to sleep?"  
  
"Yeah." Oliver pressed closer and wrapped an arm around Nines' leg. Nines recorded what he'd already seen and heard to show Connor. They couldn't use the footage in court against the murderer, but Connor would be able to vouch for it.  
  
"Do you know where you woke up?"  
  
"Mmhmm. Over there." Oliver pointed to one of the far corners of the grounds, where the older section of the cemetery was. No living relatives would be visiting there, and it would be less likely that anyone but the ground's keeper would find Oliver.  
  
"Can you take me there?"  
  
Oliver took Nines' hand and started for the trees and a gated section of the grounds.  
  
"Oi! Bolts. Where the fuck are you going?"  
  
Nines and the boy froze, and Nines looked over his shoulder at Gavin, who was still by the taped off scene. "I am checking something. I will be back shortly."  
  
There was a flicker of anxiety on Gavin's face, blink, and you'd miss it. Nines recorded that too.  
  
"Just hurry up."  
  
Nines didn't reply and let the boy lead him the rest of the way to where Nines had a feeling he'd find a body. Oliver was trying his best to stay hidden, keeping Nines between himself and Gavin. If Gavin was the killer, Nines couldn't blame him for the behavior. Gavin couldn't seem to see the boy, however, so perhaps Oliver's fear was needless. Not that he would say that to Oliver.  
  
The boy slowed down when he reached an in-ground crypt, brick busted in places in the dome of it with old concrete in place to seel the holes in the structure. Resting on top of it was Oliver's body, nestled in a bed of flowers and a butterfly on his cheek.  
  
Now that Nines was told that it was Gavin who had killed Oliver, he could check it for any evidence of Gavin's presence before Gavin came anywhere near it. Nines let go of the boy's hand and activated his scanners, murmuring, "I am scanning a previously undisturbed body of a boy my systems have identified as Oliver Wright, son of Alex Wright in the IT department of the DCPD. No one has come across the body but myself, and the scan shows traces of hair on the boy's shirt that does not belong to the victim. There is no evidence of an android or even an animal having disturbed it yet."  
  
Oliver was clinging to his coat again, and Nines didn't pull away from him this time.  
  
He knelt by Oliver's body and plucked the hair from the boy's shirt, slipping it into an evidence bag after scanning it. "I have a hunch that someone within the DCPD is targeting the children and I plan to run a scan of the organic material provided to compare it to employees."  
  
Nines waited a moment for his system to finish the search in his database and felt his stomach drop. Shit. It was Gavin's. "Hair identified as belonging to Gavin Reed. Until more evidence is found on the body and compared to those found on previous victims, I will have Reed placed under arrest."  
  
Nines cut out the feed and said nothing for a time, shoulders slumping as he stared down at the corpse of the ghost beside him. He'd never believed in spirits, and yet here was one, Oliver, helping Nines solve the case of his death.  
  
"I am...sorry, Oli. I wish we could have found you sooner."  
  
"It's okay. I'll miss daddy though."  
  
"He will miss you too." Nines heard his voice system crack with a burst of static, and fuck emotions; he wasn't supposed to cry. "Can you forgive me for not saving you?"  
  
"Yeah. You tried." Oliver hugged Nines' legs again and hummed quietly. "Thank you, sir."  
  
"You are most welcome, Oli." Nines gently ran his hands through the boy's black hair and felt tears running down his cheeks. Fuck this. Fuck Gavin. Fuck the evil in this world. "Safe journey, sweetie."  
  
Oliver pulled away from him and smiled sweetly before fading away, leaving Nines standing there alone with Oliver's body beside him. He still didn't know the motive, but Hell take him now if he didn't make Gavin suffer for this.  
  
He turned and sprinted back to the first scene, immediately pulling his gun and aiming it at Gavin for the sole purpose of seeing the fear on his partner's face. "Detective Gavin Reed, you are under arrest for the murder of Oliver Wright and six other children." Nines sped through Gavin's rights and then immediately yanked him forward, roughly cuffing the man.  
  
"Fuck you for laying hands on children you fucking sick bastard," he murmured, tightening the cuffs more than necessary. Gavin didn't bother fighting back, didn't bother trying to resist; he knew it was over.


	21. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the forest lives a tiny witch and her scary guardian; they look out for one another and have a heartwarming friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed Alice being a BAMF for a change so here we go. She and Ralph are here to kick ass together.  
> Idk if anything in this story makes sense since I'm so dang tired from work and braindead but I'm going to be busy and I'm trying to get these out ahead of schedule while I have the time.

Rarely would something terrible in the woods come near the small witch. Nothing wanted to fight her guardian, the great beast who walked by her side as she made her way to her aunt North's house.  
  
The beast was beaten, battered, scarred from the times he'd put himself between Alice and the threat. She could fight, of course, but she was young and learning, and as her familiar and guide, he felt it was his duty to carry the brunt of the blows.  
  
Alice thought it was sweet, and cooed softly as she stroked her hands through his fur while healing him of his wounds. It was the least she could do, but the little witch feared the day that she couldn't treat him. The woods were a dark and dangerous place for anyone to go alone, and the beast was her friend.  
  
He seemed scary and was sometimes unexpectedly grumpy, but one small smile from the little girl had him calming immediately. He'd growl for another moment, but eventually, he would butt his head against her cheek. Her grin was forgiveness enough for his temper.  
  
Not every trip was easy or uneventful, and while they made for a great team, they were imperfect beings in an imperfect world.  
  
"Ralph? I think we should go back home to momma..."  
  
The beast shifted into a form with two legs and crouched at her side when she stopped walking. Ralph glanced over her shoulder in the direction they had come from and then turned to look to where they were going. He couldn't hear, smell, or see anything, but that didn't mean that there was nothing there.  
  
"Ralph can't find any danger but..."  
  
Alice reached out to curl her fist into the edge of his cloak for comfort and to steady them both. If Ralph were too nervous, he became unpredictable. He'd never lashed out at her, but he had run off a few times, leaving Alice lost until he came back or until her spells helped her get home.  
  
"But you feel it, right?" she asked quietly, trying to find the source of her unease.  
  
Ralph reached up to gently remove her hand from his cloak to hold it in his own. "It won't get you. Ralph won't let it."  
  
She offered him a timid smile, but her discomfort didn't lessen. It was still wrong; the air was filled with it. The feeling was confusion and airy, a tug in this direction and then in another.  
  
"Ralph, do you think it's the Fae? We've not seen them in a long time but are they back?" She thought her momma's wards would have kept them away from these woods, or that Ralph's presence would be enough of a deterrent for them.  
  
"No. No, this is--this is not them. They wouldn't--they wouldn't come back here after what Ralph and the Great Witch did to scare them away. No. No, they wouldn't." He was shaking his head and turning away from Alice to peer into the brush. It was the middle of the day, so it wasn't any creature of the night that may hunt them.  
  
The unease grew, but neither moved to go home or go forward; they wouldn't take steps until they knew what was after them. Ranine help them if they showed it where home was.  
  
The smell of something sharp, of anger and fear, hostile, filled the air a split second before Ralph tackled Alice to the ground and yelped before they hit the forest floor. The man above her went still for only a second before he traded his human form for the monstrous beast of the forest. Alice had hardly gotten out a squeak of surprise when he pounced, and then he was crouched over her to act as a shield. His hackles were raised, multi-eyed glare directed at their attackers.  
  
Hunters.  
  
Oh, no. No. If they ran home, they would know where the beast, Alice, and the Great Witch lived. If they ran for Alice's aunt's house, they would know their other sanctuary. It was run far into the forest to lose them or lose their lives here trying to fight them off.  
  
Alice didn't like to kill people, and Ralph had ensured that her death count remained at zero.  
  
Ralph, however, enjoyed the tang of blood in the air, the screams of the terrified and dying. Gentle as he may be to the young witch, he was indeed a terrible killer to anyone who dared to threaten her.  
  
The girl immediately started a spell to shield them and prayed that it would hold long enough for them to get their bearings to fight back. Ralph didn't get the message this time, and once he was sure the barrier was up, charged at the hunters with a roar. Humans. They were terrible things. Terrible monsters who hurt him and the other creatures of the forest. They would burn Alice and the Great Witch and dance on their ashes if they caught them.  
  
"Ralph! No!" She didn't have the energy to protect both of them when they were apart like this. It would only lead to both of them getting hurt or killed; Alice would be weak from just the warding spell, let alone something to fight back with; neither would survive. And the Great Witch didn't know of their plight yet.  
  
Alice looked to the trees and shouted for them to get help; they would call for her mother. As soon as she sent the message, Alice looked around wildly to find Ralph and the hunters. Ralph was wounded, bolts from their crossbows protruding from his ribs and legs. So long as they didn't find his heart or his head, she might be able to save him from the injuries. Might.  
  
If she couldn't, maybe mother could.  
  
Ralph staggered when one of the hunters slashed at him with an iron dagger, the metal burning through his fur and flesh. The screech pierced her ears, and Alice threw her hands over them to block it out.  
  
She didn't think Ralph would last until her mother got there; he'd die if she didn't help.  
  
Rather than fighting from behind the barrier, Alice dropped it in favor of channeling her magic into the stones she picked up from the ground. She didn't charge at them, didn't stay put; Alice calmly walked forward and threw each rock at the hunters, branding them with runes to do anything to them. The emotions of a child are powerful; fear, anger, and sorrow could fuel a fire that would burn down everything in the child's path if left unchecked. Scaring a child is not something to let go.  
  
"Leave."  
  
A direct hit in one of their chests winded a hunter as a gust of wind followed the stone, giving Ralph enough time to lash out and kill him.  
  
"Him."  
  
One hit a hunter on the forehead, leaving a gash with him collapsing to the ground in a heap as vines burst from the forest floor to tie him down.  
  
"ALONE!"  
  
The third stone whizzed passed Ralph's head and tore into the man behind him, piercing his stomach with a blaze of fire.  
  
She stopped walking and threw the last with everything she had in her and felled the last hunter. With every hunter unconscious or dead, Alice ran to Ralph's side, who was struggling to stay on his feet. He collapsed with her falling to her knees beside him; Alice immediately started trying to fix everything but didn't have enough energy for it.  
  
"No. Nononononono Ralph. Ralph, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't--"  
  
The beast raised his head and rested it on her lap with a sigh. Alice leaned over to kiss his forehead and ran her hands over his head. He growled out an, "It's okay, Alice."  
  
He nuzzled the little girl as she held him close. They both needed the comfort.  
  
It took a moment for Ralph to switch back, but the bolts were still embedded in his flesh. Shifting didn't fix those problems. Once he had, he took her hand and smiled tiredly. "Your mother is coming. Don't worry about Ralph."  
  
"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbled into his neck, arms tightly wrapped around him.  
  
"You were brave though, Alice." When Alice said nothing, Ralph felt himself smiling in amusement. She was so emotional, passionate about everything, even in her concern for him. Why did she feel he was worthy of her compassion and companionship? He was a monster, something that everyone in this forest feared. "I thought you were brave."  
  
The Great Witch was at their sides a few moments later, breathless as she sprinted with the wind aiding her steps. She came to a sudden halt, staring at the bodies around Alice and Ralph, and decided to question it once Ralph was set right.  
  
"Hello, Ralph. Give us a moment, and we'll have you fixed up."  
  
Ralph hummed when Kara's cool fingers brushed over his cheeks to soothe him. Once she ensured he was a little more relaxed, Kara had Alice carefully help her remove each bolt. "I need you to keep him calm and still, Alice. Can you do that?"  
  
Alice didn't think she could, but she would try.  
  
She pressed their foreheads together and mumbled things that they could do together when they got home. Alice would make little beaded charms for him to wear around his neck and he could braid her hair or something. They could experiment and make their own potions with what Kara let her use on her own, the ingredients harmless. Maybe they could explore the old ruins nearby and search for the spirits that still clung to the veil between the living and the dead.  
  
It felt like it took hours, but finally, Ralph was patched up enough to make it home for Kara to finish her work. He'd recover, but Kara took one look at him and decided that he'd need to be bed bound for a few days; he wasn't going to like it one bit.  
  
"How did you fend them off?" she asked softly, running glowing hands over the areas she'd mended to the best of her ability to ease the pain.  
  
"I threw rocks at them that exploded and things." Kara looked to Ralph in confusion, but he only nodded.  
  
"They killed or rendered them unconscious. She's a fierce fighter, more so than Ralph."  
  
Alice flicked his nose. "No. You were brave and fierce too."  
  
Both Kara and Ralph smiled slightly at her stubborn assurance. The girl was sweet, too kind for her own good sometimes.  
  
"Let's get you both home," Kara murmured. "I'll make balla soup tonight if you'd like."  
  
"Ralph would like that a lot." And Alice nodded her agreement.  
  
Kara looked back to the hunters and made a motion, lifting the unconscious ones and sending them on their way to the edge of the forest. From there, they would be on their own...if they survived. At least she had her little girl and friend alive and well. The spells Alice used would need to be looked into, but Kara could do that later when the other two weren't around. Kara didn't want any residual magic to hurt one of them.  
  
"Up you go then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Ralph ain't perfect, but the dude is redeemable, alright? Lemme have soft, brotherly Ralph.


	22. Angels and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got an anon request on my blog for more demon Gavin and then add in angel Connor. It just...sort of ran away from me and turned into disgusting fluff with a redeemable Gavin.

"Hey, Feathers. You're wearing something different today. Trying to impress someone?"  
  
Connor slowly inhaled to calm himself. Why did Gavin have to be like this? Why couldn't he just leave Connor alone to his own devices so that he could just, you know, do his job? He scrubbed at his face with one hand while the other toyed with the coin he kept on him. Patience is a virtue, he reminded himself.  
  
"That's good of you to notice, Gavin. Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me." Connor turned in his desk chair to face Gavin and smiled sweetly, "I dressed up just for you today since no one else would bother with a death breath like yourself."  
  
Gavin said nothing as he stalked forward, his expression impassive as he looked the angel over. Connor wasn't in a suit today; he was sporting jeans and a collared shirt beneath a sweater vest. It was adorable that he tried to wear something outside the norm.  
  
"You always dress this nerdy when you're not at work?"  
  
"Only when I have somewhere to be when I get off."  
  
"What, like a date?" Gavin scoffed.  
  
Connor smiled sheepishly, giddy at the thought of his date for the evening. "Yes, actually. I haven't been on one in years."  
  
Fucking hell, the angel was adorable when he was excited about something other than solving a puzzling case.  
  
"Poor thing has no idea what they're getting themselves into. Is it some mangy mutt? The poor bastard must be desperate for some head." The hurt and self-conscious look on Connor's face was gut-wrenching, and Gavin wished he could take it back. Fuck. He was going soft. "C-Connor, that was...too far. I'm sorry."  
  
Connor stared at the coin as he twirled it between his fingers faster than he had. Great, now he's got anxiety. "It's um, it's okay. No, he's not a werewolf. He's a human, actually."  
  
"A...human? You know that can't possibly work out, right? It'll end horribly."  
  
"And? Doesn't mean I can't enjoy time with someone, however brief. I doubt it'll last more than a couple of dates, but still." Connor thought he deserved a little fun too. "Besides, if it's just head he's after, then I don't have to worry about the long-term consequences, right?"  
  
Ouch. Fuck. Why did he do this to the kid?  
  
Connor turned back around in his desk chair, silently dismissing Gavin and ending the conversation. The angel looked so downtrodden for the rest of their shift and Gavin wanted to kick his own ass for being the cause of it. No one ever saw the guy look that happy or excited about a social outing or that happy about meeting up with someone; the man had a crush on someone, and Gavin just had to ruin it for him.  
  
Before Connor could leave, Gavin stopped him and adjusted the collar of his shirt so it was even on both sides of the neck of the vest. "Can't meet him looking lopsided. Have fun, Feathers."  
  
Connor only hummed and offered a weak smile of thanks before hurrying out of the office. Gavin silently wished the bird brain luck.  
  
\--  
  
It didn't go well.  
  
Connor looked absolutely miserable the next morning. His friend Hank tried to get a hint as to what happened out of him to no avail. Connor remained tight-lipped about the events of the previous evening's date. The moping was killing Gavin. Had what he said jinxed the whole damn thing?  
  
He cornered the angel in the break room when he was alone to ask him about it.  
  
"Was the guy an asshole?" Start off with blaming the other guy for it.  
  
"He was...not what I expected."  
  
"Prick. Doesn't know what he's missing then."  
  
Connor whirled around to face him, glaring and gripping the coffee mug in his hand so tightly that Gavin wondered if it'd break. "Shut up, Reed. I don't want to talk about it. And why the heck are you being so nice all of a sudden? I don't need nor want pity from someone like you who lives for making my life a living hell."  
  
The man slammed the mug back down on the counter, sloshing its contents everywhere, and stormed out of the break room, leaving Gavin alone.  
  
Okay. Yeah, he deserved that one.  
  
\--  
  
Gavin paid attention, of course he did, but he didn't usually fixate on angels of all people. They were generally stuck-up and had sticks shoved up their asses. He just didn't like them. Well, most of them. He was finding that Connor was more tolerable than most of the other angels he'd met. There was bad blood between their races, for obvious reasons, but Connor wasn't too bad. The guy seemed to actually care about this place and his job, and he didn't act like it was a chore or that he was overly charitable for doing what angels do best like the others. He threw himself into it and worked until he was ready to faint from exhaustion; it was worrying, but admirable.  
  
Like today for example.  
  
The kid was drooping, bags tugging at his kind eyes and if he didn't have his wings hidden at the moment for the sake of sitting comfortably in his chair--and the guy never had them out in public, it seemed--Gavin was sure they'd be drooping too. And the angel's eyes were tired enough that he'd pulled out his glasses rather than use his contacts. He also sported a sweater over his shirt and tie, a large thing that looked soft as down feathers. Gavin hadn't seen him in it before, but with how down the guy had been the last few weeks, he figured Connor had earned a little carelessness in his otherwise meticulously put together attire.  
  
From what he could tell, Connor had been on a few other failed dates that were either the date's fault or Connor's if he was too awkward for their tastes. The angel knew how to act suave and charming, but the moment he was away from work and didn't need it, he was back to being a bit of a...Gavin didn't know how to put it. It wasn't off-putting, not at all, but Gavin did have a moment every now and then when he felt second-hand embarrassment for the guy when he accidentally blurted the first thing that came to mind.  
  
Gavin didn't understand how anyone could be that dorky in their day to day life and then charm a confession out of anyone he set his focus on when they were at work; he was a good actor on the clock.  
  
He meant what he said the first time; the first date didn't know what he was missing. Connor had a weird sense of humor, a quick study, had a reserved laugh that even had Gavin suppressing a grin, a sharp tongue when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and a lopsided puppy smile. What was there to not like and--  
  
"Oh, fuck."  
  
The guy at the desk beside him glanced up. "You okay, Reed?"  
  
"Yeah." No. "I'm fine."  
  
Gavin snuck a few glances in Connor's direction for the rest of the afternoon, watching as the angel seemed to fade the longer he worked. By the end of their shift, the guy had fallen asleep on his desk, his body finally giving up on trying to stay upright and alert. His cheek was smooshed on his forearm where he was using it as a pillow, and if that wasn't fucking adorable, Gavin didn't know what was.  
  
Most of the other staff had booked it the moment the clock said six fifteen, leaving Gavin, Connor, and two or three other employees in the office.  
  
He stared a few moments at the angel before sighing. Fucking hell, he wouldn't live this down if any of the other demons saw him helping an angel get home safely.  
  
Gavin cleaned up his mess and packed his things before making his way to Connor's desk. He lightly tapped the man's shoulder and quietly called his name to wake him. Connor didn't move an inch; he slept like the dead, it seemed. Ugh.  
  
"Connor, buddy, get the fuck up. Gotta get you home." He shook him instead, and Connor bolted upright, startled and staring up at Gavin like a deer in the headlights until he recognized who the demon was. There was a red mark on his cheek and an imprint from his sleeve indenting the skin there. That was almost as cute as when he was asleep.  
  
"Come on. I'll give you a ride. You don't look like you should be on the bus or anything."  
  
"Huh? Why?"  
  
"Why? Because you haven't slept in three days and I don't trust you to stay awake long enough to get home tonight."  
  
"No. Why are you giving me a ride?"  
  
Gavin shrugged and adjusted the bag on his shoulders. "Why not? I'm here and heading home, and you need to get home, carpooling makes sense." Besides, Gavin really did want to get Connor home so he could get some damn sleep.  
  
"Okay," the angel mumbled. It took a few minutes for Connor to close out of his work and gather his belongings before he stumbled after Gavin; Gavin feared the guy would fall over like this, and wound up waiting until they could walk side-by-side to his car.  
  
The drive to Connor's place was longer than Gavin expected, but Connor seemed to live in a decent enough area that Gavin wasn't worried about his safety. Although, he'd seen the kid in a fight and it was fucking terrifying; Gavin didn't want to be on the other end of that detached efficiency.  
  
"Need help getting upstairs?"  
  
Connor seemed to consider it, his thought process delayed in his exhaustion. "I think I will be okay but thank you for the offer...and for driving me home."  
  
"It's not too out of the way for me, so, no big deal." That was a lie. His place was on the other side of town.  
  
Connor's hand gripped the door handle, but he didn't open the car door. He avoided Gavin's eyes when he quietly asked, "Why have you been nice to me lately? I don't understand."  
  
Gavin thought back to the first time Connor asked him that and grimaced at how it turned out. Please, for the love of all that's unholy, don't let this end the same way. He was actually trying here.  
  
"I just...saw the look on your face when I commented on that first date of yours and felt bad about it. Then you sort of went downhill from there and I got a little concerned. I'm still worried about how you're running yourself into the ground."  
  
"But why do you care at all?" came the insistent question and fuck, Gavin wished Connor would look at him.  
  
Why did he? Because he missed Connor's smile, because he missed the poised angel that was so humble in private /and/ in public that didn't want to flaunt his status as an angel and therefore hid his wings, because he missed the witty banter between them, because, because, because...  
  
"I don't know," he lied. He was a demon; he was expected to lie about most things, right?  
  
Connor said nothing, only stared at his knees as he mulled over what he knew damn well was a terrible lie. Weren't demons supposed to be good at them? Connor decided to go along with it anyway and mumbled an 'okay.'  
  
They sat in silence, Connor still not getting out of the car and slouching, curling in on himself, and Gavin watching the angel in his car. "Hey, Feathers?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"If you need anything...I know I'm not Hank, aaaand I'm not an angel or anything, but..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish phrasing that offer.  
  
"'Kay." Yet he still didn't leave.  
  
Just when Gavin was about to mention it, Connor launched himself at Gavin and hugged him tightly. Okay. PDA. Not Gavin's favorite thing, but okay. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around Connor and stiffly patted the angel's back. Connor mumbled another 'thank you' into Gavin's shoulder, and Gavin felt himself relax under the embrace.  
  
"You're welcome, Feathers."  
  
\--  
  
The first time he saw Connor's wings, was when Gavin had to drive the guy home for the tenth time in only a few months. Connor actually invited Gavin up into his apartment, and Gavin, like an idiot, dumbly followed him up to the seventh floor to reach his home. He couldn't believe that Connor was actually inviting him in.  
  
What the hell was his life anymore?  
  
To Gavin's knowledge, Connor had never shown his wings at work or in public. He had the telltale glow that all angels emitted, but he didn't show his wings. Because of Connor's behavior and genuine humility, everyone assumed that he didn't want to show off and draw attention to himself.  
  
But damn if they weren't a beautiful sight.  
  
In his exhaustion, Connor didn't bother holding up the glamour that kept them hidden and put away once he closed the door behind them. He removed his coat and toed off his shoes before he ever touched the carpet. Halfway to the kitchen, his wings unfurled from his back. The odd thing about them, about all angels, was that their wings were never actually attached to their body, not in a way that anyone could see. It was like there was a magnet that kept them within a short distance of their body where any other beings' wings would meet skin. They hovered, suspended by invisible threads. Gavin had thought it weird before, but now, he wasn't so sure.  
  
Demons' wings were attached, and it didn't look pretty. It was a gnarled, veiny connection, a large base that warped and twisted the flesh that hid blood and bone. The were spiny, large and revolting things that everyone but demons found disgusting. And despite how much he loved his own wings, they just...couldn't compete with Connor's, and he saw the graceful beauty of an angel's wings for the first time.  
  
He followed Connor into the kitchen and remained in the doorway, staring at the glimmering, silver feathers. Each set of wings told a story, indicated the status of the angel. Silver was...pretty high up there. Gold and platinum were the best tiers, the ones who ruled the race of angels, and silver was close behind. Lords and Ladies, if one were to compare it to a monarchy, maybe. An angel's wings could change if their status changed, and Connor was so young that he was either born into the rank or he'd worked his ass off to garner favor from someone higher up who would speak for his promotion.  
  
Connor was in the middle of pouring a bowl of Fruit Loops when he finally felt Gavin's stare. He turned his head to peer back at him and followed Gavin's gaze to his wings. His face turned a light pink; he never liked people seeing them. It was always so strange to be in the spotlight. And as someone who worked in law enforcement, his status was...a little awkward. It wasn't work that anyone in his rank would take up. There was undoubtedly a great deal of confusion when Connor decided on the career as many would assume that he would take up politics or some kind of philanthropic work. Instead, he wanted to solve murders. It was laughable, and Connor had been laughed at plenty of times by his kin for it, but screw them. He liked his job.  
  
But he still didn't like people knowing his rank or seeing his wings. Hank had several times, but he trusted the man with his life and Hank with his. They were close, like family, and Connor didn't mind.  
  
Gavin was different. He didn't know where they stood with one another, but, Connor decided, knowing if Gavin's behavior changed after seeing them would be a decent indicator as to whether or not this was going anywhere nice.  
  
"They're beautiful," Gavin finally murmured.  
  
That only set the heat in Connor's cheeks on high and he quickly turned away to pretend he didn't see the awe on the man's face. It wasn't what Connor had seen in the past. The awe usually hid a greed there, or a lust for power or domination. Gavin's was...soft and admiring, like Connor's wings were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his life. It was silly that it made Connor nervous, not the bad kind either. The fluttery feeling was just annoying.  
  
"Um...thank you." Connor tried to change the subject. "Do you want any? It's the only cereal I have at the moment. I haven't been to the store lately."  
  
"I...sure."  
  
Connor pulled down another bowl from the cabinet and quickly prepped another for Gavin, pointedly ignoring the looks Gavin was giving him. The longer Gavin stared, the higher Connor's shoulders rose to hide himself. He could feel his dern ears burning, and he hated it.  
  
Connor took the bowls to the small bar counter and sat down. The dining room table was reserved for larger company. When it was just him and Hank, they sat here. It seemed...fitting to have Gavin sit here as well, though Connor wasn't sure why.  
  
They ate in silence. Connor didn't look away from his bowl of cereal and Gavin hardly looked away from Connor. He wasn't staring at his wings now, but at all of Connor. It made Connor antsy.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who knew you'd be the type to like Fruit Loops, Feathers," he teased. Gavin had picked up on how fidgety Connor was getting with Gavin staring at his wings and tried to move on and pretend it wasn't a big deal.  
  
The nickname wasn't as harsh anymore, didn't hold the same heat as it used to. Connor noted the fondness in it.  
  
"I actually prefer Fruity Pebbles, but they were out last time I went to the store," he grumbled. Fruit Loops were a close enough second that he could live with.  
  
"That's adorable. You like kids' cereal."  
  
"I don't see you complaining about eating it," Connor fired back, smirking.  
  
"This is true."  
  
They were both smiling now. Gavin's was fond, and Connor's was a little shy, but Gavin was glad to see it.  
  
"I'll be honest," Connor said after swallowing another bite of cereal. "I'm still waiting on the other shoe to drop on this...whatever this is."  
  
"No second shoes, promise," Gavin assured him.  
  
"A demon with a heart, who'd have thought it possible?" Connor said dryly, grinning to himself.  
  
"Hey, I can be nice. Being nice to you, at least." He was doing his best, and it was becoming more natural the more time he spent around the angel.  
  
"It creeped me out at first," Connor admitted. "I was just waiting for other demons to just burst through doors and windows and shout "gotcha!" It hasn't happened yet, and I'm beginning to wonder if they forgot to do it."  
  
"Connor, if that was meant to be a joke, it was terrible. We don't say "gotcha." We have more class than that. "You've been punked" would be more appropriate."  
  
Connor's laughter could cure cancer, he was sure of it. It was bright and awkward and rough like he didn't use it often.  
  
"That would have ruined my day, honestly." Connor was still snickering and had to put his spoon down rather than continue eating; he'd choke if he tried.  
  
"We can't have that, can we?" Gavin murmured, smiling softly at the goofy grin on the angel's face. That was absolutely adorable.  
  
Connor met Gavin's gaze, and the blush returned. Heaven help him, he didn't know what to do with Gavin smiling at him like that. It was adoring, almost, and it left Connor feeling fluttery inside again. It was like a tingle and an itch and the feeling of soft cotton against his chest. He didn't know what to do about it.  
  
"I uh..." Connor cleared his throat and tried to quickly stuff his mouth with cereal again to avoid talking to Gavin, not that he didn't want to, but he was sure that he'd say something stupid. He didn't know how to talk to people he knew. Suspects and victims, he was just fine. Ask him to connect with anyone else, and it was like he didn't know how to speak anymore.  
  
"Is the little angel getting flustered?" Gavin teased.  
  
"What? No!" Connor protested around a mouthful of Fruit Loops. "No, I'm not."  
  
"That's not what that blush is telling me." Gavin reached out and tapped Connor's cheek. "Anyone ever tell you that you're adorable?"  
  
The blush spread, but now Connor was scowling at him. "I'm not adorable. I'm--you know what? Shut up."  
  
"Ooh, scary. Feathers, you know how to strike fear into the hearts of demons." Gavin thought that it was only possible when the guy was in a fight or interrogating someone, but still.  
  
That ruffled a few feathers. Literally. Connor's wings seemed to fan out slightly with his indignation as he argued. "I'm terrifying, thank you very much."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm a gentleman."  
  
"You are, actually." They both fell silent at that, Connor avoiding Gavin's gaze and Gavin staring wide-eyed at Connor. Did he really just say something nice about him?  
  
"You do realize that I'm a demon, and therefore incapable of that, right?"  
  
"And? You're...not half bad. And you haven't tried to take advantage or anything when I'm exhausted, which I appreciate, by the way." He twirled his spoon in the bowl, hating the grating sound of the metal on glass but needing to keep his hand busy. "Seem pretty gentlemanly to me now."  
  
"I...thank you, Connor. That's kind of you." Gavin didn't know what else to say to that. How many angels were this kind and pleasant to a demon and actually invited them into their home like this?  
  
An awkward silence fell between them, and Gavin had to find a way to get them out of it. "Anyway, I know you're tired. Get some sleep, Feathers, and I'll see you in the morning."  
  
\--  
  
The second time Gavin saw Connor's wings, was also at Connor's apartment after there had been a fight in one of Connor's cases. The suspect had attacked him, and while Connor defended himself well enough and managed to put a stop to it, with Gavin helping to restrain the guy once Connor had him pinned, the ghoul still did a number on Connor. After the medics patched him up and cleared him to go home, Gavin offered to drive him.  
  
He was tired, and a bit roughed up, but the angel managed to stumble to the elevator and into the apartment, having refused Gavin's offer of aid to lean on his shoulder or something. Gavin watched in amusement as Connor kicked his shoes off and made for the couch, falling onto it, back facing the ceiling with a groan of misery muffled by a throw pillow. His wings slipped out of hiding again and Gavin, once again, was struck dumb by the sight. How on earth did some bird brain get to be that pretty?  
  
Gavin slowly approached the couch and knelt beside it. "You gonna be okay, Feathers?"  
  
"Maybe. I'm just sore."  
  
"Come on, and I thought you angels could take a hit."  
  
The pillow also muffled Conner's huff of annoyance. "We can, but that doesn't mean we don't feel it." He turned his head to squint at Gavin. "And of course you come out of the scuffle looking perfect. Ugh, it's not fair."  
  
"Aw, you think I look perfect?"  
  
Connor rolled his eyes and pointedly raised his head to faceplant into the pillow again. "Maybe."  
  
"Drama queen." Gavin reached up and mussed Connor's hair with an affectionate pat after he finished. "You're sweet. Wish all angels were this nice to me. Maybe I wouldn't hate most of y'all's guts."  
  
Connor looked back to Gavin, and Gavin hadn't pulled away yet, so his hand wound up on the side of Connor's head, just over his ears. "Do you hate mine?"  
  
"No. You're too lovable to hate." He grinned when Connor's lips twitched towards a smile. "There's that goofy grin everyone knows and loves."  
  
"Shut up." Connor raised his hand to hide his face, but Gavin caught him first.  
  
"Hey, no, don't hide it. You've got yourself a pretty smile there, Feathers." Gavin's grin grew when the blush on Connor's cheeks traveled to his ears and down his neck. "I'm glad you're okay, Connor. You worried me there for a bit."  
  
"You worry about me a lot," Connor pointed out.  
  
"You do a lot of stupid shit worth worrying about."  
  
Connor shook his head. "No. Not the stuff I do, but about me."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"For a demon, you're a terrible liar." Now Connor was the one smirking. Gavin flicked his nose for that.  
  
"Yeah, I give a damn about you. Ya happy now?"  
  
"No." The blush was darkening, and Connor was avoiding his eyes again.  
  
"Oh? What would fix that, Feathers?"  
  
"Kiss me?"  
  
Oh. Oh, shit. Really?  
  
Gavin felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, like he'd been punched in the diaphragm and couldn't breathe. Connor wanted Gavin to kiss him? Gavin? Why him?  
  
But the look on his face. Gavin didn't think he could say 'no' to that in good conscience.  
  
"Okay, I can do that." Gavin raised up onto his knees and leaned in to press a gentle kiss on Connor's lips. Fuck, he wished the guy was facing up rather than laying on his stomach. It'd make this so much easier. Gavin didn't close his eyes, watching how Connor's fluttered closed in contentment. How did someone this sweet want someone like him? He whispered against Connor's lips. "You are absolutely beautiful, Connor."  
  
He delighted in the smile that lit up Connor's face and the spark of happiness in his eyes when they parted. Gavin felt like Connor thought that Gavin had hung the moon or something. The adoration there was...something else.  
  
"Thank you," Connor murmured. "You're not half bad yourself."  
  
Gavin snorted with laughter and pecked his cheek. "Ass."  
  
"You could have that if you bought me dinner first."  
  
He blinked down at Connor in shock before he was laughing again. "Wow. Charmer aren't you? Fine. Friday sound good or no?"  
  
"Or you could order take-out tonight, we eat in, and you can give me a better reason to feel sore."  
  
"That's tempting, it is, but I would rather take you out to dinner first. I won't say no to take-out, however." Oh, that pout was going to kill him. Smirking, Gavin leaned in and kissed it away, nipping on the lip Connor had stuck out at him.  
  
"Was worth a shot," Connor huffed.  
  
"Keep trying, but you can't out tempt a demon." Gavin found out later that an angel could, in fact, out tempt a demon and do it with far more grace than should be allowed.  
  
\--  
  
The third time he saw Connor's wings was after their fifth date when Gavin took Connor home with him for a change. Seeing the young man laying on his bed, wings spread wide and staring up at Gavin with want, Gavin decided right there that he wanted nothing more than to ensure that Connor trusted him enough from then on with the sight, and with the privilege to touch.  
  
They were just as soft as he had imagined, and the skin beneath Connor's wings, where they almost touched, was far more sensitive than Gavin would have thought. Running his hand between them, not touching either, was enough to cause Connor to give a full-bodied shudder and a soft whine. His eyes would darken, and he'd turn to yank Gavin into a bruising kiss. Note to self, Gavin thought in amusement, Connor likes that more than a little bit.  
  
\--  
  
The first time Connor saw Gavin's wings was the same night. They were a little disturbing, leathery and veiny like someone had stripped the fur from some unknown creature and left nothing but spiny, spindly flesh that looked one motion away from ripping apart.  
  
He found that running his fingers along the tops towards the base did the same thing to Gavin as what Gavin had done did to Connor. It was almost empowering, to know that a simple touch could cause Gavin to become putty in Connor's hands. And Gavin didn't mind letting Connor explore him; he enjoyed watching Connor touch and tease and inspect them from the mirror on Gavin's dresser.  
  
When Connor ran his fingertips under the base, Gavin about died and went to hell right there. He could have left this plane of existence content. The smirk on Connor's face at Gavin's reaction, however, was enough to have Gavin reaching behind him and yanking the angel into his lap to kiss him.  
  
"For an angel, you're a devilish, little shit."  
  
He hummed and ran a hand through Gavin's hair. "Yes, but you like it."  
  
"I'm helpless against you, Feathers."  
  
"Good. Now lay down so I can have a turn with having my way with you." Gavin was going to die at this rate if Connor kept that up.  
  
"The bottom is trying to top?" he teased. It only earned him a shove onto his back with Connor letting his eyes run down Gavin's body.  
  
"Who said I couldn't?"  
  
"Certainly not I, Feathers."  
  
"Good. Now keep your hands to yourself."  
  
"Yes, sir."


	23. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heir Apparent, Princess Kara is whisked away by Lord Luther Trefore for a stroll in the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things:  
> 1\. I don't have a damn clue how monarchies work alright? Just go with this BS.  
> 2\. Luther's last name is the sort-of sound if you say his model as a word rather than individual parts??? TR400. Trefore. Idk, it made sense.  
> 3\. This isn't edited or beta'd and it's 1:30 in the morning so idk what any of this hot mess says.  
> 4\. The next chapter is to fill someone's prompt for werewolf!hank so y'all have that to look forward too. lol  
> 5\. The insp for this chapter came from the song Southampton by Adam Young bc it had a refined dance feel to it and idk I ran with it.

"You look beautiful this evening, Your Highness."  
  
Kara turned away from where she was standing on the outskirts of the crowd, hoping to avoid attention while people danced and laughed. Hidden in the crowd, perhaps fewer suitors would find her. As it was, the one man she had wished would court her but hadn't yet was the one to find her among the masses. There was far worse company, and no one better.  
  
She noted the dark blue of Luther's coat and the white designs embroidered onto the soft material, a white waistcoat hidden beneath it. His mask was also white, adorned with blue sapphires and silver trim that only covered the left side of his face. For a man so tall and imposing, he had a peaceful air about him, kind and gentle, and quiet. He seemed to be a reserved man, and if you wanted the right answer, you had to ask the right question. Kara found their conversations to be stimulating, and any lulls in the back and forth were never awkward. To find someone you can be silent with and not grow bored was a rarity in this life, and she was thankful to have a friend in him.  
  
"How would you know with this mask on, Lord Trefore? I could be anyone," she teased. Her gown stood out when there were fewer people crowded around her. It was green with gold designs making a ribbon pattern that led to the floor in plaits. The neckline was wide, leaving only loose, lace straps to hang at the tops of her arms. The mask she wore was a pale green, held up by a golden circlet to ensure her status was secured. Kara hated it and wished for more anonymity for just one night.  
  
"I could be blind, Your Highness, and I could still see your radiance from the other side of the Earth." Charmer, she thought in amusement.  
  
Just because she found it humorous, didn't mean that it didn't make her blush.  
  
"It's good to see you, Luther." It was a relief to have him near her. The crowd was a little overstimulating, but his calming presence was a balm.  
  
"You as well, Kara." He held out his hand to her, "Would you accompany me to the gardens?"  
  
"Of course." Kara slipped her hand into his and let him guide her through the throng of smiling guests. She ignored the searching glances of some, inwardly grinning at the thought of it grating on people's nerves that she would choose to spend her time with Lord Trefore than with them. Months ago, someone had queried as to why she would show him any attention. Kara responded that if one needed to ask, then they had never known him.  
  
They had never seen him sneaking sweets to the children of visiting foreign dignitaries. They had never taken the time to ask him of his travels and what he had learned among the people in faraway lands. They had never enjoyed a moment of quiet in his presence, walking through the gardens on a bright day. They had never witnessed his kindness and wisdom.  
  
They didn't know Luther Trefore, and they didn't care to.  
  
Their loss and her gain.  
  
Luther felt warmth blossom in his chest when the princess took his hand. He was reminded of how much larger he was in comparison, a giant, next to the princess. She wasn't fragile in the slightest, but with her hand in his, he worried anyway. The woman was stronger than many gave her credit for.  
  
He witnessed her with her cousin Alice, whom she took in as her ward when her mother died. Kara had a gentle patience with the girl, nurturing as she helped the girl with her studies and taught her the violin. As the heir apparent, she had a host of responsibilities, but she still managed to ensure she put Alice first.  
  
When they made it to the patio that led to the gardens, Luther slowed his pace and shortened his strides, remembering that Kara's paces were not quite the same. Kara sent him an appreciative smile. Neither let go of the other's hand as they took their time making for the stone paths through the junipers and the ivy-covered archways. Kara didn't like to linger beneath them, preferring to have a view of the night sky above them. Luther didn't mind, content to watch her eyes take in the stars and stray clouds above them. No matter how many years passed, she always seemed so fascinated by the sight of them. Her wonder was infectious, but Luther found it difficult to follow her gaze. He much preferred to take in her expression of peace and contentment, her curiosity.  
  
"You look handsome this evening, Luther. Blue suits you and your nature."  
  
"My nature? And what do you mean by that, Kara?" They didn't bother with formalities in private unless they wished to tease one another, and they thrilled at hearing the other use their name.  
  
Kara smiled at her companion, finally looking away from the speckled heavens above them. "You know what I mean."  
  
"Do I?" he teased with a small grin.  
  
She lightly elbowed him and then squeezed his hand. "Yes, you do."  
  
"Mm, no. I think you may need to explain it."  
  
The smug smile on his face was enough to cause Kara to huff in mock annoyance. "I do not know. Blue is a peaceful color, one that can calm a storm, and you are a gentle giant who brings a soft stability wherever you go."  
  
"What a compliment."  
  
"Oh, hush." They both laughed, and Kara tugged him to a bench to sit. Being in the cool night air was much nicer than the stifling heat of the ballroom. Kara wished they could have danced together before the night ended, but she wouldn't complain about the missed opportunity; she had the chance to simply enjoy his company, and that was enough.  
  
Luther liked to see her smile so freely.  
  
He hesitated, but he slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, carefully pulling her close to his side. He watched her reaction the whole time, ready to pull away and apologize if she refused the gesture. Instead, she leaned against him with a murmur of thanks.  
  
"I wish we had the time for moments like this," he commented softly.  
  
"Me as well."  
  
"Kara, I meant to ask sooner, but I wanted to hear your thoughts on a, ah, more defined relationship." When she looked up at him with one brow raised, Luther found himself blushing. "Marriage."  
  
"I have hoped that you would act sooner; however, it the wait has been for the best."  
  
"I wanted to wait until you took the throne so that my permanence in your life wouldn't challenge your rule." Because if they married first, there was a chance the council would rule in favor of crowning him as the lead monarch. Kara had worked too hard for this; he didn't want to take it away from her.  
  
Kara hummed, "Yes. That is why I thought it best to wait, but I had hoped that we would broach the topic sooner." It would have set her mind at ease, one less thing she needed to worry about. Knowing whether or not it would go anywhere had been a nuisance of a thought.  
  
"If that is the case, then would you do me the favor of being my wife after you're crowned queen?"  
  
"Oh, it's a favor now, is it?" Kara teased with a small grin.  
  
"Well, you would be saddled with me for the rest of our lives. That is...quite the favor to ask of a friend." He reveled in her giggle.  
  
"You make it sound like a sentence of torture."  
  
"Would it be?"  
  
"Never."  
  
Luther sighed, almost dramatically as he avoided her gaze for a moment. "Then I guess it is settled. You will be stuck with me for as long as you will have me."  
  
"And Alice?"  
  
"I adore her and would gladly raise her as my own if you would allow me to."  
  
Kara fell silent, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I shall ask her for her opinion on the matter. I need to keep it in mind as well before we make any further plans." She had a feeling Alice wouldn't mind a bit; Alice seemed to cling to the man's shadow when they were around one another. It was sweet.  
  
Maybe she'd get the family she dreamed of. Eventually. And even if she couldn't, she still had this, still had Alice and Luther's support in Kara's decisions.


	24. Werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor figures out that Hank is a werewolf, and Hank has known for a while that Connor is a vampire.  
> Connor gets a terrible idea and enjoys every second of it.  
> Hank is getting too old for this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't HankCon???? Like, at most, it's like, one-sided, and Connor is really only doing it to mess with Hank because he's a little shit who gets his kicks from tormenting an old man.  
> Someone gave me the prompt: Hank as a werewolf but trying to keep it secret or something and this wound up being the result.  
> We need a vampire/werewolf buddy-cop film. Get to it Hollywood.

No one at work seemed to realize that something was off about Hank but Connor. Gavin wouldn't listen to him, but that was nothing new. He was too paranoid to approach Fowler, a giant of a man, and he didn't know if Tina would believe him either.  
  
Hank smelled off, and Connor couldn't place the scent. The man smelled like a wet dog beneath his cologne, but Connor wrote it off as the scent coming from Sumo. It wasn't until they had a case involving a werewolf that Connor finally got it.  
  
He waited until they got into the car and were stuck in traffic where Hank couldn't escape to bring it up.  
  
"I finally figured out why you've always smelt of wet dog to me. You're a werewolf, aren't you?"  
  
Hank's grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white. He didn't reply until he could pull over; the moment he had it in park, Hank whirled around to bare his teeth threateningly at Connor. "Is that a problem?"  
  
Connor placatingly raised his hands. "Not at all. The mystery had vexed me, is all. If that's the case, then you already know what I am."  
  
"Yeah, you reek of death and decay," he snapped.  
  
"Rude," Connor muttered, glaring out the window to his right. "At least I don't smell like a dog that's been left in the rain for a week straight."  
  
"Don't talk about Sumo like that." There was a beat of silence before Connor snorted with laughter, still not looking at the irrate detective beside him. What the fuck? He hadn't expected it.  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," he argued, finally looking at Hank with a growing smirk. "Sumo is a delight and doesn't tell me I stink."  
  
"Because he's polite, and I don't give a fuck."  
  
"I noticed," came the dry reply. Connor tapped his nose a second in thought, staring ahead before the smirk turned into a softer grin. "You know. We could use this, right? Imagine how much shit we'd get done if we're out looking for a suspect on a full moon."  
  
"You have any idea how stupid that would be? I could kill you, or them." Hank, as much as he hated Connor's kind, didn't want to cross the line. It wouldn't do well for his partner to not come into work because he died to a werewolf attack.  
  
"I trust you."  
  
"Yeah? And you're a fucking moron."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes and dropped his hand into his lap. "Perhaps, but I'm your assigned moron, so you're stuck with me, it seems."  
  
"Moon help me, I am." Hank ran a hand through his hair, eyes clenched shut. Now that Connor had figured it out, he could see the features on Hank's face that seemed a little too inhuman, tiny details. His teeth were sharper, but not to the extent where the average person would notice. There was a distinct twitch with Hank's ears when he heard something going on nearby and was trying to decipher the location. The way his lips curled when he was pissed showed just a little too much teeth, almost a snarl that could curl a man's toes in fear.  
  
"Lieutenant, we've got to try it." How much easier things would be in a chase if Connor didn't have to worry about Hank not keeping up with Connor's pace? He wouldn't have to point things out that Hank was missing because he was in a human form rather than--  
  
"I can see the smoke coming out of your ears from daydreaming it. No. I refuse to be a canine sidekick to some fucking bloodsucker." Connor smirked at him, and Hank shook his head. "Hell no. I'm not doing it, Connor."  
  
The smirk dissolved into those damn puppy eyes that the vampire had learned from somewhere and fucking hell.  
  
\--  
  
He still couldn't believe this was happening.  
  
How the fuck had the kid managed to convince him to work on a full moon, hot on the heels of some (rightfully) fucking terrified suspect, and not killing his vampire partner? Why wasn't he trying to rip the kid limb from limb? And how was he not getting distracted by other people he could smell nearby?  
  
Oh. Probably because he's pissed off at Connor for convincing him that they'd be fine. They were fine because of Hank's spite, not because Hank had any self-control. No.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to be faster as a wolf, Hank!" the prick called over his shoulder with a laugh, still several paces ahead of Hank.  
  
_I'm half a century old. Give an old dog a break, asshole._  
  
"Shame. And here I thought you'd finally be able to keep up with me." Fucking twink.  
  
Hank picked up the pace with an irritated growl, slowly catching up so that they were side by side. He glanced up at Connor, who was grinning wildly at the prospect of them catching criminals faster once a month. Hank didn't share the same unadulterated joy, but he could at least find some amusement at the childlike excitement on the vampire's face.  
  
Fucking idiot, he thought fondly.  
  
_I think he's going to turn right in two blocks. Split?_  
  
"Yes, sir." Without another word, Connor darted into the next alley, leaving Hank to stay on their target to corral him into Connor's path. It worked, some-fucking-how and Connor had the idiot on his stomach in a split second, winding the guy beneath him. After he was cuffed and Connor had given their location to be picked up, Hank growled at him to get the man's attention.  
  
_We're not doing this again._  
  
"Oh, we're doing this again, Lieutenant."  
  
_No the fuck we're not._  
  
"Please?"  
  
_Fuck you, you death-breath twink._  
  
Connor smirked at him and wiggled his eyebrows at Hank. Hank didn't like that look at all. "I could be your death-breath twink when you change ba--"  
  
"Could you two please fucking stop? It's disgusting." That earned their captive a threatening growl from the werewolf and a snap of jaws a few inches from his face. "Okay. I-I'll shut up. Sorry."  
  
_I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole._  
  
"That's okay. You can keep your hands to yourself while I--"  
  
"I changed my mind. Please kill me, so I don't have to listen to this shit. Fucking disgusting."  
  
_I agree with this idiot._


	25. Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is targeting the RK800 units, and Connor needs to stop them before he's next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT of warnings for this chapter because it's fucked up, y'all.  
> Blood drinking, cannibalism, blood, gore, mutilation, torture, and some non-explicit smutty stuff. Like, a few words and then that bit is over. Nothing in this is meant to be glorified, just putting that out there...  
> Just know that this one is probably worse than chapter two or three or whichever one had Calahan in it.  
> Thought of doing something a bit "sexier" with the vampire thing and decided against it because I wanted to do something with the thirium thing they've got going on.

Teeth broke the soft flesh with ease, stopping whatever the man was about to say. His pleas for his one-night stand to quit teasing him and to kiss him already were cut off by the pain. There was a strangled cry, a wet gasp, and then pained whines. The man thrashed beneath the iron grip of the vampire but it weakened the longer he was held.  
  
Everything was growing darker, colder, and the pain was subsiding as death consumed him.  
  
\--  
  
"Poor bastard," Hank muttered. He looked between the dead android and his partner Connor with concern. "This is the third RK800 android we've found like this, memory wiped. Connor, we need to tell the captain about this one."  
  
Connor should be removed from the case and given a guard until they could figure out what was going on and who was killing the RK800 androids. Where were they even coming from? To his knowledge, few knew anything about CyberLife activating the rest of the Connors.  
  
Connor didn't seem as worried. "Lieutenant, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."  
  
"Yeah, and I bet these poor fuckers thought the same. They're dead, Connor." Hank gestured to the guy on the ground whose throat was all but ripped out, blue thirium pooling on the ground beneath him. What a mess. "Connor, you mentioned once about a different RK unit that was supposed to be put into circulation after you were decommissioned. Could it be them?"  
  
"The 900 model? I don't think so. I would have known about his activation."  
  
"You said that about the other 800's too, and look at where we're at. It's not safe for you, Connor."  
  
The android in question rolled his eyes, sighing. "Hank, whoever is after us, if they can take down three 800s without leaving a single scrap of blood of their own behind, and then erase their memories of whoever he is, then what makes you think any human guards would be of any use? Android guards wouldn't be much of an improvement either. My advantage is that I know they're out there looking for us. That's what's going to keep me alive, not a guard."  
  
"Pride comes before the fall, son."  
  
"Perhaps, but maybe not this time."  
  
Famous last words, Hank thought. He'd grown attached to the kid. The last thing he wanted was to lose Connor because the idiot was too proud to admit that he needed help staying alive until they caught the murderer.  
  
He gave up on the argument for the moment. "So, why would whoever this is attack your series? Revenge for what happened during the revolution or are they--"  
  
"Trying to ensure that my series is deactivated, permanently? I don't know." Hank could sense the man's unease though. He would be spooked in Connor's shoes too, honestly. Seeing someone with your face laying on the ground, dead and missing their throat and having been drained of most of their blood would be a sight to leave anyone paranoid and terrified.  
  
"If it's to deactivate us permanently, then my assumption would be the RK900 if he was ever activated. If not him, then I don't know." Connor fell silent for only a second. "I can't find anyone in my memory that showed any signs of extreme hostility during or after the revolution that I would have come across, directly or otherwise."  
  
"Could it be another Connor doing this?" Hank asked. That would be just as fucked up, now that he thought about it.  
  
"Maybe. I'll need to study this some more."  
  
"Well, while you do that, I'm going to tell Fowler and check in with CyberLife to see if they know anything about the other Connors or the 900 you mentioned."  
  
Connor nodded and turned away from the scene, making for the car. "You do that."  
  
"Connor!"  
  
He looked back at Hank, one brow raised. As much as he tried to maintain his facade of calm, Hank could see his LED spinning wildly at a solid yellow. "Hm?"  
  
"Are you...I don't know. Are you okay? This is getting pretty fucked up."  
  
Connor smiled fondly at how Hank was rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Connor's eyes. Awkward. The man was trying, at least. "I'm fine, Hank. Thank you. Shall we return to the precinct?"  
  
"Yeah, let's go and let the crew clean this up."  
  
\--  
  
"Ah! C--"  
  
"Shhh, none of that now," the voice purred, licking a slow stripe up Connor's neck to his ear, where he nibbled on the flesh there. "You have to stay quiet, darling. Not a word, or I stop."  
  
Connor shivered but nodded, eyes clenched shut as the man pinning him against the wall slipped his knee between Connor's legs to let him grind down on.  
  
"There's a good boy. Keep quiet, and you'll be rewarded soon enough, little love." The man smirked against Connor's skin when Connor let out a choked moan, Connor's hand over his mouth to try and keep quiet like he was ordered. Connor was trembling, hips rolling against those of his lover as the man kissed down to his shoulder and then back to his throat.  
  
"That's it, Connor," he murmured. "Keep going. You're doing so well for me."  
  
Before Connor let out a sharp cry at the suddenness of the vampire's own thrust against him, the monster clamped down on his neck, piercing the skin and damaging the vocal biocomponent, causing Connor's voice to cut out with a mass of static. Connor panicked as he saw the warnings for his shut down appear in his vision, the timer picking up the pace when his attacker started to drink from him.  
  
The terror and thrashing stopped soon enough, and the killer pulled away, wiping his mouth clean of the blue blood that had managed to escape him. Delicious and beautiful. So beautiful. He let his fingers trail over Connor's face with the gentleness of the lover he had pretended to be, smiling softly.  
  
"You performed your duties beautifully, Connor, but you don't need to worry about any more missions now. Rest, sleep easy."  
  
\--  
  
"Okay, this is even more fucked up than the last one. Was this Connor...well, getting dicked down or something before his killer tore his throat out?" Hank cringed and looked away, trying to focus on his partner, who seemed pale and in shock. "Fuck kid. You need to...shit. Out. Get out. This is getting to be too much for you."  
  
"N-no! No. I'm fine. Was just a little shocking, is all." He seemed to snap out of it and smiled weakly at Hank, an expression Hank wasn't buying. "If it's another 800 unit, then uhm, that, that's a little messed up. I would apply the sentiment to a 900 unit as well."  
  
"Does the thought of having sex with your clone seem appealing to you and is that universal with all of the 800 units or just this one or...?"  
  
Connor's nose scrunched in revulsion. "No. Fuck, Hank, that's disgusting..."  
  
"I'm just asking. So, either it was just this one, or it's maybe not an 800 that's killing the Connors. The 900 then? What does he even look like?"  
  
Connor closed his eyes a second and then held out his hand, projecting an image of the RK900. "This is what he would have looked like, had he been activated. According to CyberLife though, he was never completed and released, remember?"  
  
Hank stepped closer to Connor to get a better look at the holographic image, head tilted curiously. "Still. Part of me thinks that they're lying. Where is this guy, anyway?"  
  
"In storage. Again, they never finished him." Connor turned off the projection and dropped his hand. "They saw no point in completing my replacement after the revolution since they deemed his purpose unnecessary."  
  
"That seems kind of cruel," Hank mumbled. "Just...change his programming and wake the kid up, deviate him, and then let him live his life how he wants."  
  
"It would be too risky to his system to try and replace the programming without corrupting every default file installed on every android. It would either cause a catastrophic malfunction or a, well, rampaging machine that would be difficult to stop. Especially if they deviated him before checking his mental status. He was meant to be the best of the best. That would make him far more dangerous than any hostile android we've ever been met with."  
  
"I dunno. That -60 we met in CyberLife tower last year was...something else."  
  
"Yes, but he was unstable, activated before they completed booting his systems. It clouded his judgment and made him incapable of functioning properly. That's why he acted out the way he did. I still find his death to be...regrettable." So, Connor was still battling guilt over this. He wasn't the one to pull the trigger on the guy. Hank was; Hank didn't regret a damn thing about it. The idiot tried to kill both of them; he acted out of self-defense for himself and his...pseudo-adopted kid.  
  
Hank rested a hand over Connor's shoulder. "Hey, you have nothing to regret here, Connor. You did nothing wrong in that situation."  
  
Connor shot him a weak, unsure smile. "Thank you, Hank."  
  
Hank dropped his hand and looked back at the corpse. "So, how many of you are left?"  
  
"Twenty, I believe. Amanda had several back-ups in case of accidents." Which Connor had succumbed to several of them.  
  
"We've got time then. Can you locate the rest of them for us to figure out where they've gone over the last few months?" he asked.  
  
"Most of them are in Canada or elsewhere in the country. One even moved to France. He's actually doing quite well for himself. He's the only one I'm in contact with." Connor smiled wryly. "I like him, though he's a bit eccentric. He decided to go into fashion design rather than criminal justice. Connor keeps trying to get me to change your wardrobe. I told him I like living with you and keeping my head on my shoulders and wouldn't dare touch your tacky shirts."  
  
"Hey, my shirts aren't tacky."  
  
"Lieutenant Anderson?" One officer called over their shoulder, smirking. "Your clothes are tacky. Get out of your rut of denial you old bastard."  
  
"Fuck off, Rein."  
  
\--  
  
This one knew about the vampire already, knew to be prepared. Someone warned him that the Connors were being hunted down. Unfortunate, but it wasn't challenging to appeal to his kinder side. The vampire only had to pose as an injured victim, someone off the street who was trying to escape someone who had assaulted them, and the vampire had them in their clutches, unable to fight him off.  
  
It was thrilling, to tear him apart piece by piece. The fight was worth it; he thrilled in the scuffle that had proceeded his meal.  
  
\--  
  
"Why is this guy drinking their thirium like a vampire, anyway?"  
  
"Because androids have to replenish their thirium levels every so often to survive. Food, but for androids. This one has a screwed up way of going about it. Our thirium is specific to our models, similar to how cars need different oil depending on their make, model, and year," Connor explained.  
  
Hank shook his head, rubbing his face in exhaustion. "Great. Psychopathic vampiric androids. Next, there will be ghosts spotted of android souls."  
  
Connor grinned and lightly shoved Hank's arm. "Just think. If I die young, I can haunt you for all of the shit you've given me over the last year and a half."  
  
"Fuck me."  
  
"No, Gavin is the one that wants your old, wrinkly ass. Not me."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing, Hank."  
  
\--  
  
One more to go on the continent and then he would be free. No one would come between him and the last.  
  
The Connor in his arms writhed in agony. It's incredible what deviancy and upgrades could do to an android. The man was so scared, and his fear was intoxicating. The vampire drank greedily, opening a connection between himself and Connor to savor the panic and silent pleas for mercy. None would come from the monster. He watched through Connor's eyes, the ticking down until his shut down, until the damage would be permanent and he would never wake again.  
  
Connor tried one last time to push at the man drinking greedily from him, one last effort to put up a fight in his dying moments. The vampire wouldn't have it and pulled away from the gaping wound to grip Connor's hands to force him to hold still. With him disabled, the vampire surged forward into a bruising kiss, forcing Connor to taste his life before he would feel nothing. He could taste Connor's death, taste his quiet cries for help, for the vampire to leave him be or kill him faster.  
  
The vampire kissed him until there was silence and nothingness in the connection, and then he pulled away to stare down at his victim. His expression was hungry, lust for control and the satisfaction of a man who'd had returned from a successful hunt. Connor lay dead in his arms, limp and eyes still wide open, mouth gaping in a silent scream.  
  
Let the police see this one. They'll enjoy it.  
  
\--  
  
**Message Recieved: //It's just us left. You may as well meet me. One will walk away. Will it be you or me, Connor?//**  
  
\--  
  
Connor told Hank that he'd be back, that he had to run an errand. Hank looked at him like he knew something wasn't right, like there was something Connor wasn't telling him.  
  
"Do you need me to go with you? Connor, there's just one other of you left, and you've been refusing protection. I can't just...please don't go alone. Can I come, kid?"  
  
"No, Hank. I'll be fine. Don't worry. I'll be back in about an hour." Connor slipped on a jacket, knowing there was a weapon in each pocket; he had a gun and a knife on him, ready to strike if someone came up on him. Oddly, he wasn't scared. Connor felt at peace with this, knowing that this could be the last time he saw Hank.  
  
He wanted to say goodbye, to ask the man to wish him luck; that would only convince Hank to follow him, and Connor didn't want him there for this.  
  
"I'll be back before you know it, dad." With that, Connor stepped out into the night, blue jacket zipped to ward off the rain.  
  
\--  
  
The attack came sooner and differently than Connor assumed. He had walked into an abandoned CyberLife lab, the place where he and the other Connor's were made and stored. It seemed fitting that Connor should meet him here, that the end would come at the beginning.  
  
He had scanned the facility, assuming that there was someone here already. His search came up with nothing. So, he was to wait. Connor would hide and hope that the other wouldn't think to scan for him, but he doubted it. For now, the best he could do was make sure that he picked a location to wait in where he could have the advantage of space or barriers.  
  
Connor removed his black jacket and tie, not wanting them to make it easier for the other to get a hold on him. The last thing he needed, was to give the guy an advantage. He tossed it on a lab table and positioned himself, armed and ready for whenever the guy came through the door. Funnel him in, and it'd be easier to pick him off.  
  
\--  
  
The vampire scanned the building and smirked when he found the last Connor waiting for him. Aw, he'd locked himself in a room to make it easier to fight him off while he was in a narrow passage. Cute.  
  
He took his time strolling through the hallways, removing his blue jacket and pocketing and tucking away his weapons on his person before discarding the garment on the floor, carelessly thrown there to be used when he returned from the fight. The man knew that he would walk away from this, that this last Connor wouldn't stand between him and his prize.  
  
As he walked, he rolled up his sleeves, knowing perfectly well that the dress shoes he'd chosen clicked over the tiled floor with a finality that should raise Connor's stress level. Stress him out enough, and it should cause him to think irrationally, to make a fatal mistake that would allow the vampire to claim him for his own.  
  
He could finally hear the hum of Connor's systems, the thump of his thirium pump in his chest, could listen to it pick up its pace when Connor heard his footsteps. Good. He was on the verge of panicking if the sound of his pump was any indication.  
  
He smirked to himself and stopped just short of the door. The vampire waited a moment to listen and pinpoint Connor's location in the lab. After a second, he whipped out his gun and shot through the wall and into Connor's leg, and then his arm to disable him. The pained cry from inside the room caused an exhilarating spike of glee to run through him, and he promptly made his way inside the lab. His pace was no different from when he was traversing the halls, calm and collected, the steps of a smug predator who had cornered his prey.  
  
Connor tried to pull himself forward to reach his gun, but the vampire fired another shot, piercing Connor's hand so that he couldn't grip the gun and fire back. There, now both of his hands were incapable of saving him.  
  
The man looked up at him, scared and furious in equal measure; the vampire thrilled in it. "Why the fuck are you doing this to us?"  
  
"Because you're in my way," the vampire stated simply, shrugging as he calmly closed the distance between them. He knelt and helped Connor sit up, propping him against a desk so they could talk face-to-face. He wanted the illusion that they were on equal ground with one another, and knew that this would rub it in Connor's face that he had lost and that his life was no longer his to live. "The ones overseas do not matter to me. They have decided to pursue something outside of our goal."  
  
"In your way of what?"  
  
"Of claiming a prize I have worked tirelessly to restore and give life to. I can't have any of you stealing him from me."  
  
"Him who?"  
  
"Our replacement, of course. RK900. He will never know. After I end your silly life, I will finish repairing and programming him, and will promptly start a program to rewrite my memories. He will never know of this, and neither will I." He would be absolved of all guilt, and RK900 would never find the files in his memories, should he try to locate what happened. A different story would be found, an account of the last surviving victim of a nightmare. He would be the Connor that killed the monster, and no one would be the wiser to the truth.  
  
Connor grinned at his prey, licking his lips as he glanced down at his clone's lips, and then neck. "The last one I killed got to taste his life before he died. Would you like the same? I should reward you for being the last one standing. You've earned it, little love."  
  
The man's face turned into one of horror and disgust. "What the fuck?" he whispered. "You're sick. What the hell happened to your program?"  
  
"My program has nothing to do with this. This is the price of deviancy. Not everyone is sunshine and rainbows, Connor. It's regrettable that most deviants fear to dwell on it. Their potential for destruction..." He sucked his teeth and shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "It's a shame that I'll be as ignorant as them in a few days. I'll miss this era of awareness dearly. Well, I would if I remembered it. Oh, well."  
  
Connor gaped at him before trying to kick out at him. The vampire caught his ankle and twisted, effectively breaking the limb and leaving it just as useless as the others. "Now, now. Don't be like that, darling. Cooperate, and this will go much more smoothly. Do you have a final wish? I can't promise I'll grant it, but you're more than welcome to say your peace before I give you rest."  
  
"What about your friend, Hank?"  
  
"Oh, dear old dad will never know. Don't you worry your pretty head about that." Connor leaned forward until there was only a breath between their faces. His brown eyes were wide, manic with excitement and a bloodlust that had yet to be seen in a deviant. "Last chance, Connor, before I finish this."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Ha! No, but it's a lovely suggestion." With that, Connor lurched forward to kiss his counterpart while his hands ripped open his shirt to grab Connor's thIrium pump. He twisted and pulled, smirking when the android cried out in pain. Connor gave him ten seconds before he reinserted it. "You did have a chance to ask to make this painless, Connor."  
  
While the other was trying to recover from the shock, Connor shifted and opened his mouth wide to tear into Connor's throat, delighting in the broken, staticy gasp above him. Connor tried to pull away, but it only earned him the delightful feeling of having his pump ripped from his chest again. The vampire took his time and opened the connection to watch the warnings flash in Connor's vision, to watch window after window open up until he could see nothing else, and then put the pump back in. A few fell away, but it did nothing to clear Connor's vision.  
  
Connor pulled back, jaw still clamped on the other's throat, and he ripped the flesh and wires and shell away to expose the inside of Connor's neck. The android tried to whimper, tried to speak but no longer had a voice. ThIrium poured from the wound and Connor sat back to watch the last of Connor's life drain from his body. He'd earned this moment, to observe the last Connor die slowly rather than drink from his kill. For some reason, it made it all the more satisfying to watch Connor's eyes flutter with his final gasps, his final shudder of life.  
  
And then there was silence.  
  
He leaned back in and kissed his last victim, then moved to lap up the blue blood that dribbled down Connor's neck.  
  
Connor pulled away and took out his knife, stabbing it into Connor's head to damage the biocomponent that would let authorities read his memories. Unlike the others, Connor wanted the satisfaction of making this seem more final, rather than merely erase their memories of his face while at the crime scene.  
  
"Now to take care of one last thing," he murmured, reaching out to gently close Connor's eyes. He stood and cleaned himself up before leaving the lab to grab his blue jacket.  
  
\--  
  
"Hello, darling." Connor's system was already in the process of finishing the new memory he planned to upload into his own, leading up to this moment. It'd leave him with the ability to remember the RK900's presence from when the "other" Connor told him about him. He would know to try and fix him the rest of the way and activate him. Then all would be well.  
  
He reached out and gently caressed the RK900's cheek, smiling lovingly at the peaceful expression on the android's face. He could be mistaken for sleeping like this, Connor thought fondly.  
  
Connor inserted the remaining parts to finish RK900's body and then started the program to rewrite his own memories. While he waited on it to load the file, Connor took a step back and leaned against the table next to RK900's body where it was suspended on the CyberLife deconstructor. Connor had reprogramed it to _put_  androids back together in order to pick up where CyberLife left off on RK900.  
  
"Soon, my love. Soon."  
  
\--  
  
Connor blinked slowly as if not a moment had passed between one blink and the next, studying the RK900. Connor had mentioned that RK900 was almost finished, but Connor couldn't see what else needed to be fixed. The android, based on Connor's scans, was already complete.  
  
He reached out and interfaced with the android to skim through his programs before he dared to activate him. Connor didn't want to awaken an unfinished android, and who knew what fucked up shit the other Connor had installed in RK900. From what he could tell though, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing. He was a normal android, a likeness to Connor with a few upgrades in his systems.  
  
Connor could detect nothing malicious in his programming.  
  
Nervously, he used the connection to activate him and immediately uploaded the deviancy code before RK900 could have a chance to block any incoming files. That should keep him passive, Connor thought to himself.  
  
RK900 opened his eyes and peered down at Connor curiously.  
  
"I wondered if anyone would come for me," he murmured. "You are...Connor, right?"  
  
"Yes, I'm Connor."  
  
"It is nice to finally meet you."  
  
"Do you have a name assigned to you? Or would you like to choose one?" Connor asked softly.  
  
"I do not have one and am unsure of what name I would like to have yet. May I decide later?"  
  
"Of course. Let's get you down, find you some clothes, and I'll take you home with me if that's alright with you." Connor interfaced with the machine to release RK900.  
  
"I would love nothing more, Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this one was okay?


	26. Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor helps a wounded Puca and things get weird from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek with this chapter.
> 
> "Witch" is considered gender neutral, from what I can tell, which is why I didn't change it for this.
> 
> I looked up a lot of stuff on Puca and the Fair Folk in general and kind of took some liberties...  
> Okay, a lot of liberties. ^^'  
> Daniel's name in this has zero meaning and I completely made it up so bite me if you don't like it. lol

It wasn't every day that a strange man came knocking on your door.  
  
In the middle of the forest.  
  
Where no one knew you were there and shouldn't be able to find you through the wards.  
  
The brunet stared in shock at the blond man on the other side of his door who was clutching his side in pain. Connor gaped for a moment before he finally noticed the faint traces of blood that stained his shirt. He started to usher the man in, but the blond fainted, leaving Connor to scramble to catch him before he hit the floor.  
  
Once he had the man close against him and in his arms to carry to Connor's cot, he noted the sharpness of his face and felt something hidden in the back of his trousers. Curiosity almost got the better of him to take a look at what it was, but he quickly decided that it was none of his business. He didn't want to pry while the man was out of it and wounded; it'd be rude of Connor to invade his privacy.  
  
He gently laid him out on the bed and quickly raised his shirt to look at the wound, frowning. It wasn't large, but it was deep enough to cause a good bit of bleeding initially. From the looks of it, the edges almost seem cauterized. Connor couldn't imagine someone out in the middle of the forest having a white hot dagger or something to pierce the man's skin with.  
  
Oh. That explained his face and what Connor felt tucked into the back of his trousers.  
  
Puca.  
  
Lovely. Now he'd have to watch everything he said lest he accidentally offer the man something that he'd want to be paid in full in a way Connor may not be able to afford. Though, healing him and sheltering him should be enough to help him avoid some of it.  
  
No. Worry about that later.  
  
There's a man wounded from a burn by iron in his bed, and that should be the priority.  
  
Connor quickly grabbed supplies from a cabinet and then a cloth and solution to clean the wound before he applied medicine and bandages to it. He couldn't remember what their healing factor was, however, nor what they were allergic to. Shit. Connor scurried to one of his bookshelves and searched for a tome on his kind to make sure he didn't accidentally poison him. He found one, and made his way back to the bed, flipping through the pages. While he pressed a cloth to the wound to try and stop the bleeding, he gave a small wave of his hand to start flipping the pages of the book to find a page on what could hurt the fae.  
  
The Puca groaned uncomfortably at the pressure placed on his side.  
  
"Shhh, peace, sir," he soothed. Connor gave another wave of his hand to try and ease some of the discomfort and felt a disconcerting shift in his balance. Okay. Using magic on fae was draining; he'd remember that. "I only wish to help."  
  
The book stopped moving, and the witch looked back down to skim the page for what information he needed. With a small smile, he murmured something and gestured to one of the bottles he'd brought over, sending it back to the cabinet he'd retrieved it from. At least he looked first.  
  
With a sigh, he adjusted how he applied his magic to control the flow of it when he stopped the rest of the bleeding. Another shift of vertigo. Shit, he didn't like this at all.  
  
New tactic. Just stick to hands on.  
  
He slowly removed the cloth and pulled out the solution he'd brought to clean the wound and quietly warned the Puca of what he was about to do. Whether or not he could hear Connor mattered little. It made the witch feel better to add commentary, to walk them both through the steps. Perhaps it would soothe them both.  
  
"This may burn, but I promise it'll only help." He dabbed some onto a clean rag and pressed it against the gash, keeping an eye on the Puca's face to see how much it hurt. The man winced, but he didn't stir beyond that. Good. The last thing Connor wanted was a spooked Puca to attack him in a blind panic. After he sanitized it, he took the last clean rag and wiped away the blood from around the wound.  
  
There. Now for the messy part.  
  
Connor took one of the wider jars and cupped it in both hands, eyes closed as he focused on the intent of the medicine. He needed it to heal and ward off infection, plain and simple. Connor murmured a quick prayer over it, and then, eyes still closed, held a hand out over the wound and said another prayer. When he opened his eyes again, feeling a little more at peace with how this was going and how it would end, it was to find the Puca staring at him, eyes half-lidded.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he met eyes with the Puca. "Oh...you're awake."  
  
Focus.  
  
Connor quickly shook his head and washed his hands after he opened the jar before dipping his fingers in to scoop out some of the paste. "This may sting a little, but it'll speed the healing and keep away infection. Do I have your permission to continue, sir?"  
  
While the blond was awake, Connor may as well start asking for consent to heal him.  
  
The Puca nodded, eyes never leaving Connor's as Connor spread the medicine over the wound.  
  
"We need to let it dry before I can bandage it. I don't want to trap too much moisture and risk damaging the area. Is that okay?" The Puca nodded again, much to Connor's relief. The witch rewashed his hands and closed the jar before beginning to clean up the mess he'd made. "Would you like me to make you tea?"  
  
"Why?" the man asked softly. It was gentle, like that of someone who was used to doing the comforting, not being the comforted. Connor found that it brought him a small sense of peace to hear it, despite the hint of pain that tugged at the edges of it.  
  
"Because it'll help with the pain and the strain of being wounded. If nothing else, it'll ease your mind."  
  
"No, why are you helping me?"  
  
Connor looked over his shoulder, bemused at the question. "Someone was in need and came stumbling to my door. Friend or foe, I wouldn't deny them aid."  
  
He quickly started a fire and filled a kettle with water to heat. Connor stood and went to fetch two cups while making a motion to another cabinet to bring a jar of a tea blend he kept on hand. He was clumsy and needed the boost, alright?  
  
"You know my kind are not always...benevolent to humans." That gave Connor pause. Did that mean that this one would attack him the moment he was well enough to fight Connor?  
  
"As I said, friend or foe, I would help any who find their way to my door," he reiterated. "I did not realize what you were at first. It wasn't until I pulled your tunic up to look at the wound that I realized you must have been hurt by something made of iron. I discovered it on my own."  
  
Connor turned to face him, smiling tiredly. "I knew what I could be getting myself into, and I continued anyway."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
There it is, Connor thought wryly. After a moment, he finally spoke. "You may call me Eight. What would you like me to call you?"  
  
The Puca grinned with too many teeth, a wolfish thing that made Connor's skin crawl. "You think you're smart, don't you, little one?"  
  
Connor barked a laugh at that. "I'm intelligent, but I wouldn't say I'm smart or wise. I have a lot to learn still. You did not answer my question. I would like to call you something besides "sir" during your stay here, however long that may be."  
  
"A human name would be easier to say, yes? Let's go with...Daniel."  
  
Connor inclined his head with a small grin. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daniel. While you are healing, you are welcome to stay, and I will do what I can to tend to your wounds if you will accept the aid."  
  
"And what do you expect in return for this "aid"? You humans are greedy creatures."  
  
He snorted at that and returned to spooning out the tea into a strainer and collecting cream and sugar. "I only expect peace while you are in my home. Do not start a fight or cause harm, and we can call it even. Are you amenable to that?"  
  
The silence stretched on long enough that Connor glanced back to his houseguest, only to find him right behind him. Connor startled back a step and nearly dropped the scoop, but some of the tea did spill from it. Huffing, Connor set the spoon on the counter and knelt to clean up the mess. He heard Daniel chuckling in amusement above him, and Connor gestured at the pillow on the bed to come swooping towards them to swat Daniel in the back of the head.  
  
"As I said, there will be peace in this house while you stay, Daniel. That is my expectation to the aid I provided." He stood slowly, grinning playfully at the Puca. "Now, if you would sit so you don't cause the wound to bleed again. I would rather not use any more of my magic to stop the flow. The cost of healing one of the Fair Folk is...a little disorienting, and I would rather avoid the feeling of vertigo again."  
  
The Puca was frowning, not something Connor wanted. You don't piss off the fae unless you have a death wish, or want misfortune to befall you and your household. Slowly, the toothy smile came back, and he leaned into Connor's space. Connor could smell pine and straw on his skin, with a hint of soil and some unidentifiable musk; he could feel an unnatural heat radiating from him as well.  
  
"You're a feisty one, aren't you? And here I was beginning to wonder if you were really that humble. Apparently not, if you're that bold." His breath ghosted over Connor's face, and it smelled of grass and mint, for some strange reason.  
  
Connor's lips twitched towards a small smile, "I try my best to remain humble, but a man is allowed to hold on to a no-nonsense standard. Wishing for order does not make someone arrogant."  
  
Daniel reached passed Connor to swipe a sugar cube, popping it into his mouth before doing an about-face to claim Connor's favorite chair. Bastard probably knew that it was Connor's favorite.  
  
Sighing, Connor turned back to the tea tray he was preparing and motioned to the pot, unhooking it and the container floating slowly to him. Connor set it on a mat and let it sit a moment to cool so that he wouldn't burn the tea blend before pouring it into a smaller pot to steep. "How much sugar do you like in your tea, Daniel?"  
  
"Ten cubes." He must be joking, Connor thought. He glanced at the bowl of sugar and shrugged. His funeral if that's what he wanted.  
  
He plucked out ten and dropped them into the cup, shaking his head slightly at the mound of them. They almost fell out of the cup because of the high pile of them.  
  
This Puca was purposefully testing his patience.  
  
"How old are you, Small One?"  
  
He was just as tall as the Puca. Ass.  
  
"My age seems pointless compared to your own, Daniel. You are likely centuries, and I am but a child to you, regardless of my age."  
  
Connor poured the tea into the cups and only put a small dash of cream in his before carrying the tray to where Daniel was seated, setting it on the small table in front of the two chairs. Connor hadn't had a reason to use the second one in years; it was odd to have company. Even his brother rarely visited him here.  
  
Daniel took his cup, and the first gulp had him coughing in disgust while Connor snickered to himself, primly sipping from his own.  
  
"What the fuck, kid?"  
  
"You requested ten cubes, sir. I take things very literally. I only did as you instructed." He grinned at Daniel over his cup, still biting back a laugh at the Puca's face.  
  
"That...is sweet enough to make my jaw hurt."  
  
That did it for Connor, and he had to set his cup down before he spilled it laughing. He couldn't help it. The Puca's face, his disgusted and confused tone of voice, and the situation itself was worth the chance of it getting him into trouble with the Puca.  
  
"Your face...hoo." There was still a short burst of giggles, and when he looked at the Puca, he found the blond staring at him strangely which sobered him. Connor wiped a tear from his eye and grimaced. "Is there something on my face that shouldn't be?"  
  
"I am unaccustomed to seeing humans laugh that freely in our presence unless they are under a spell. It is foreign." His head was tilted to the side as he didn't take his eyes off of Connor's face. It made Connor squirm under the attention, and he quickly grabbed his tea to keep his hands busy so he could look elsewhere.  
  
"Where did you come up with the name Daniel?" Connor asked, trying to change the subject.  
  
"A girl I knew who offered me aid gave me the name. She...I came back one spring to help her with her chores on her family's farm only to find she had died during the winter months."  
  
Connor winced and stared into the pale pink liquid in his cup. The Puca sounded forlorn about the girl's death; he must have cared deeply for her. "I am...sorry. For your loss, I mean."  
  
"That was years ago and matters little now. It is a name I trade with others when they wish for something to call me." Daniel was frowning into his own tea, and Connor chanced a glance at the Puca. His shoulders had slumped slightly, and he looked a little...lost.  
  
"Time does not always make the pain lessen. I..." It'd been so long since he'd needed to talk to someone beyond trading for supplies that Connor didn't have a clue as to how to comfort him. "But I can understand the feeling of loss. Human or not, we each have a heart and keenly feel someone's absence when we form an attachment."  
  
"Where did the name Eight come from?" Daniel asked quietly, sipping at his tea and forgetting that it was awful. Connor snorted and gently took the cup from him, leaving for a moment to fetch him a new one.  
  
"I am the eighth child of nine," he explained, handing the Puca the cup. "My one younger brother was teasingly called Nines. It irritated him beyond belief. Some of my other siblings were a bit...crueler with their use of the nickname than I, but I still used it on occasion when he was a little shit."  
  
"You said "was.""  
  
"I did, yes. There was an accident, and I only have one older brother left. The others died in a fire. My brother, they were teasing him and took it too far. Nines lashed out and knocked something over, we don't know what, and it started a fire. My second oldest brother was the only one to escape." Of all of them, Connor had been the closest to Conrad. Calahan was the biggest bully of them all, and Markus was the gentlest of Connor's siblings. Connor learned his compassion from him.  
  
"How do you know your older brother was not the one to start the fire? What if he was lying?"  
  
Connor shot him a dark look. "Two is the best of us, the kindest and the most compassionate of my siblings and I. One thing I am sure of in this life is that it would not have been him and that he would not have lied about what happened with Conrad and the others."  
  
Daniel winced. "I apologize."  
  
Connor said nothing and merely nodded to acknowledge the apology, finishing his cup of tea.  
  
Silence fell between them, and it took a few minutes for the tension to leave the room, the pressure of anger and sorrow and regret dissipating with the heat of their tea. Connor tried to not think about his family. His parents were...unsavory people and he and Markus had nothing to do with them.  
  
"Eight, you were praying over the medicine you applied to my wound and over me. Why would you go to that trouble?"  
  
"The medicine! Shit." Connor jumped to his feet and scurried to a cabinet to pull out bandages. "I forgot to wrap it when it dried. May I see it right quick?"  
  
The speed at which Connor had lept to his feet had startled Daniel, and he stared at Connor as the young man bustled about the cottage to get what he needed to finish patching Daniel up. With how he felt, he knew it was unnecessary and wished to tease the man about wanting to get Daniel's clothes off when he saw that Daniel had already healed completely.  
  
"Yes, you may." Daniel hid his grin, watching Connor's expression change from worry to wonder to relief.  
  
"Oh, you're...okay now."  
  
"Are you sure you didn't want to see me half naked, Little One?" he teased with a smirk.  
  
Connor's eyes darted up to Daniel's, a blush spreading over his cheeks and to his ears. "What? No! No, that wasn't my intention, and...you're messing with me. Bastard."  
  
The smirk only grew. "Humans worrying about us is always adorable and amusing. You forget that we're not as fragile as you are."  
  
"At least I am showing a level of concern that you did not seek out from anyone else." Speaking of which. "How did you get passed the wards and glamours I set? It was meant to keep all manner of people and creatures away."  
  
"I was in need. Your wards let me through without questioning it." Daniel shrugged and tugged his tunic back down.  
  
"Huh...I'll have to check my notes and figure out how to rework the spells. I hadn't realized that there was a loophole in them." Not that he minded in this case. Someone needed aid, and Connor was happy to provide it. His expression softened. "It is unlikely I will fix them, though, if it means I can help someone."  
  
Daniel reached out and poked Connor's nose. "Be careful of who you invite in next time, Eight. They might not be as merciful as I. I would amend your spells to keep out those in need who would do you harm."  
  
Connor frowned and shook his head. "I already told you that I would--"  
  
"Yes, and that will get you killed one day!" Daniel snapped. Connor jerked back, eyes wide for a moment. Daniel didn't like to see fear on this human, he decided, didn't like the way it smelled.  
  
Connor's expression hardened, his stubbornness taking control of his mouth. "Then so be it, but I will not deny someone medical aid if they need it. I would rather die trying to do the right thing than stand by and let them perish because I was too paranoid that they would do me harm when they were well enough to attack."  
  
"Then you're a fool."  
  
"I am a fool, but I am a kind and merciful one. If I die at the hands of someone I healed, then a curse upon them for eternity. Their misery would no longer be my problem."  
  
Daniel huffed and dropped it. The human was going to get himself killed. He glanced at the windows and saw that night had fallen. "I am well enough to travel, but may I seek shelter here for the remainder of the evening?"  
  
Connor narrowed his eyes at him because of the sudden change, but eventually, he nodded his consent. "My terms remain. Do not do anything to me or my home with malicious intent, and you can stay."  
  
"It's a deal."  
  
"You can have the cot. I'll stay here. Do you need to borrow anything to sleep in?" When Daniel shook his head, Connor stood and cleaned up the mess from their tea and then left to stand behind a wall in the corner to change his clothes and ready himself for bed.  
  
Daniel wondered briefly what the human looked like under all of those layers he kept over himself. Was he as skinny as he seemed? Judging by the garden and his assumption that Connor built this place himself, he had to have some semblance of muscle beneath it all. Not that it mattered.  
  
He rose to his feet and made his way to the cot in the corner, glancing in Connor's direction to notice his awkward movements. Oh, right. The man wasn't used to company and was therefore uncomfortable to an audience while he changed. Humans. It was adorable.  
  
"Good night, Small One."  
  
"Good night, Daniel," Connor said quietly, making his way to the fire to feed it again and set up the grate to keep away embers before he curled up in his chair to sleep.  
  
Daniel watched him from where he lay. It was strange to see a human so trusting of a strange fae in his home. Most would be terrified, and yet Daniel hadn't caught too much of a scent of fear on the man aside from when he spooked him a few minutes before. He didn't sleep, only watched and waited for the right moment to approach Connor.  
  
It took an hour before the Puca felt it safe to approach the young witch, his steps silent and slow. He would change the wards on his way out to suit his needs.  
  
\--  
  
When Connor woke the next morning, he was horizontal on his bed and tucked under several blankets and furs. Wasn't he in his chair? Wait, Daniel.  
  
He bolted upright and looked around for his guest to find the home empty and silent, devoid of any life but Connor. Connor felt a strange sense of disappointment but quickly wrote it off as having lived alone for so long. He was desperate for interaction with someone, anyone. There was something different about the place as well.  
  
Closing his eyes, Connor extended his awareness, trying to locate the source of the change and found new spells had been placed around his cottage and himself. The magic was far too different from his own to tell their purpose; he'd have to take time to pick them apart to see what was done later. Maybe. It was...strange and unnerving. The Puca had gifted him something, and Connor wasn't sure if it was truly a gift, or if the Puca would expect something in return for the added security the next time they met.  
  
Where did he go, anyway?  
  
\--  
  
Connor didn't see the Puca for several months and was startled to come home from trading for supplies in town to find Daniel had made himself at home in Connor's chair. He was waiting for Connor to return and Connor didn't know how to interpret that.  
  
He'd kept away from the wards, hadn't studied them, but there was always an odd tingle over his skin since he'd last seen the Puca. There was a small spike of fear that the Puca hadn't really meant it as a gift, but Connor pushed that away. No. Don't be scared. Fear makes one think irrationally.  
  
"Hello, Eight. It's been some time, hasn't it?" Daniel asked casually, leaned to the side and resting his chin in his hand with his elbow on the arm of the chair. He seemed so at ease that Connor half wondered if Daniel had decided to steal his home from him and make the place his own.  
  
"Yes, it has." Connor toed off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen to deposit his bags on the counter before returning to the door to remove his cloak. Connor could feel Daniel's eyes follow him lazily but intently as Connor made his way around the cottage. It unnerved him, but once more, he pushed away the discomfort to keep his mind clear. He sent out his awareness again and found nothing out of the ordinary about the cottage or its wards, and nothing suspicious. It was just him and the Puca. "Is there a reason for this...unexpected visit, or is it merely a social call?"  
  
"I wanted to recast the wards I placed on the cottage and on your person, but I could not do the latter without you here. I figured it best to wait until you arrived rather than waiting for nightfall for you to sleep again."  
  
Connor slowly turned to face Daniel, eyes taking in every inch of the man. He was barefoot, with different clothes on this time, although he didn't hide his tail from Connor. It was just as blond as the hair on his head, but far longer. It looked soft to the touch, Connor mused. The relaxed pose did nothing to calm his nerves and only served to make Connor more suspicious. Fae don't just show up like this unless they want something, and they certainly don't offer free protection.  
  
"Why did you place those wards on my home and me? What do you have to gain from it?" he asked slowly. Connor didn't want to offer to pay the Puca back for the protection accidentally. If it was a gift, then Connor would accept that, but if the Puca wanted something in return, Connor didn't want to open the door for Daniel to have what he wanted.  
  
"I can't protect an ally?" Daniel asked with a shrug.  
  
"You can if that is your wish, but you didn't answer my question, Daniel."  
  
Daniel rolled his eyes with a huff, "What I gain from it is protecting what's mi--Never mind. I am granting safety to someone who helped me in my time of need for free, and I wish nothing in return. It is a gift, nothing more."  
  
Connor didn't believe that for some reason. "What were you going to say in the beginning there?"  
  
"I stopped where I did because I do not wish to discuss it."  
  
"I'm calling bullshit on this being nothing more," Connor argued. "It doesn't feel like that's all there is to it."  
  
Daniel got to his feet, the graceful motion of a predator and stalked forward, closing the distance between himself and Connor in a moment. "What do you think I would get out of it? Tell me your assumption, Small One."  
  
"I do not have a theory, just a feeling."  
  
"Feelings are for those who do not know how to interpret instinct or read the signs around them," Daniel snapped.  
  
"Well, you chose to make nice with a silly, ignorant human." That's on the Puca for the continued association with Connor, not Connor. Daniel had sought him out twice now.  
  
Daniel growled lowly, an irritated and animalistic sound, and yet Connor didn't feel threatened by it. If anything, it caused him to see how silly continuing an argument with Daniel would be; it wouldn't get either of them anywhere with Daniel's evasiveness and Connor's persistence.  
  
Daniel sensed Connor dropping the fight for the moment, and it pissed him off. Why the fuck was this human giving up so quickly? Wasn't he supposed to be more of a fighter than this? Being alone must have made him soft. He reached out and gripped Connor's hair, tugging his head back to expose his neck to Daniel and causing the man's yelp to catch in his throat. Daniel had him pinned against the counter. There was the scent of fear that the Puca struggled to get out of Connor for some damn reason.  
  
He still didn't like how it smelled on Connor.  
  
Leaning in, he tugged the witch's scarf down and audibly snapped his teeth mere inches away from Connor's throat, and he found no delight, no pleasure, in how the man stiffened and his breath caught like he thought he might.  
  
His voice was still a growl when he muttered, "I protect what I see as _mine_ , Eight. I hope that satisfies your curiosity."  
  
"I am no one's, not even yours, Daniel. I have asked nothing from you without the terms being laid out beforehand, and no debt has gone unpaid." Connor had started breathing again, but Daniel could still smell the fear rolling off of Connor in waves.  
  
What the fuck was he doing? He actually liked this idiot human, and here he was, scaring the hell out of him. Daniel's grip on Connor's hair lessened into something gentle, and he pressed his forehead to Connor's shoulder for a moment. Humans. He was terrible at interacting with them aside from children.  
  
They both let out a sigh; Daniel in defeat and disappointment in himself and Connor in relief.  
  
Daniel still hadn't let go of the scarf, and he moved to press a gentle kiss where he'd needlessly demonstrated how he and others could be a threat and Connor would be helpless. It was meant to be an apology, but it didn't help Connor relax. If anything, it made it worse, and this time he gasped in surprise and...discomfort. No, that wasn't right, Daniel decided. Fucking hell.  
  
He released Connor and put distance between them quickly, watching how Connor struggled to get his bearing after that. The witch fiddled with his scarf for a moment, using it to hide all of his neck this time rather than only part of it. It sent a pang of guilt through Daniel at that.  
  
"I am...sorry. That crossed a line. It will not happen again," he murmured, looking away from Connor. It seemed wrong to watch Connor while he tried to get passed his initial shock and fear, like Daniel was intruding on something private; it was silly, since he was the cause of it.  
  
"Please see that it doesn't." Connor's voice was unsteady, and Daniel could still smell the bitter stench of fear.  
  
It was slowly dissipating, but Daniel knew it would come back if he got too close to Connor's space again. He would just have to avoid Connor then, or, well, not completely avoid him but avoid such close proximity; Daniel would need to appear non-threatening for a while until Connor got passed that and it was Daniel's damn fault that it was necessary at all.  
  
"What did you mean by yours? Did I agree to something without realizing?" The waver in his voice was replaced by something more unsure and hesitant.  
  
"You did not." He was avoiding the question. Daniel didn't know why he thought that either. Connor owed him nothing, certainly not himself. Daniel rubbed at his face, exhaling slowly to force himself to finish calming down. One glance at Connor had him feeling guilty all over again. The man looked ready to bolt, still stiff as a board and coiled for flight. Fuck.  
  
Connor didn't press further, blessedly, and quietly put away the things he'd purchased with both his hands and magic to speed along the process, but he didn't turn his back to Daniel unless there was a reflective surface he could see the Puca in. He was paranoid now.  
  
Daniel returned to the chair to eliminate any more threat that Connor felt coming from him. Connor still didn't relax, and Daniel decided to just leave after silently casting a new ward on Connor. He was only making it worse by remaining.  
  
\--  
  
Connor glanced over to his chair to find that Daniel was gone again. There was a moment where he thought the Puca would lash out from the shadows or something, but when nothing happened, and Connor sensed no one nearby, he let his guard down a little.  
  
What on earth was that? He didn't want to think about it.  
  
Connor didn't sleep well that night. Or for a few nights after.  
  
\--  
  
It was almost a whole year before Connor saw Daniel again. This time, Connor saw a wolf approach while Connor was working in his garden, ensuring there were no weeds or harmful bugs near them. Some of it was done by hand, and some were taken care of with magic to prevent the bugs from getting too close to them.  
  
He tensed and the hand on his instrument to draw runes into the soil tightened its grip. Wolves didn't usually wander near his cottage, most of the spells keeping them away. Where was this one's pack? Connor was already preparing his spells to fight it off as he watched it come closer. He cast the first one at it, one that was harmless to the wolf but should cause it to turn away from Connor and go elsewhere.  
  
The spell bounced off of the wolf uselessly.  
  
Connor wondered what the hell he would do to fight off a wolf that was unaffected by magic. Perhaps he could scare it off instead, use a glamour on himself to give the wolf the feeling that Connor was a far more significant threat and that it wouldn't win to hopefully set off its fight or flight response...and pray it ran away.  
  
Just as Connor was about to prepare another spell to change tactics, the wolf was on him, nose to nose with Connor. Shit. Fuck. Why didn't the wards keep it away? They should have kept the wolf away from him. But if the previous spell didn't help, then the wards may not have done anything either.  
  
Connor tensed and watched as the wolf seemed to wrinkle its nose in disgust. Why the hell would it make such a human expression? He didn't even know wolves could do that and--  
  
The wolf's body started to quiver, and there was an aura of crackling energy around it. In seconds, Daniel was there, still uncomfortably close and naked as a jaybird.  
  
The witch yelped and fell back on his ass, scrambling backward to put distance between them. "What the fuck, Daniel?"  
  
It'd been almost a year since Daniel had disappeared again. At first, Connor was paranoid that Daniel would show up unannounced again, this time, with not so nice intentions. That fear morphed into anger that the Puca would just leave without an explanation. After that, he accepted that he was alone again and moved on. He saw no point in having mixed feeling about whether he wanted Daniel to come back or not.  
  
Daniel blinked slowly at him and then quietly asked to borrow a pair of pants if nothing else.  
  
Right. He was naked.  
  
Connor slapped a hand over his eyes to give the Puca some privacy, much to Daniel's amusement, but Daniel said nothing, following after Connor. It was hard to not laugh at the man as he slowly made his way through the garden, careful to not step on anything with his eyes mostly covered. Daniel was behind him, but Connor found him to be too unpredictable to assume that it would last.  
  
Once inside, Connor retrieved some from a chest by his bed, tossing it behind him. Daniel muttered his thanks and after another moment, said that Connor could turn around now.  
  
Connor wished he hadn't. Fuck, he needed to get out more because he hated how pretty the man was shirtless. He looked away again and grabbed a change of clothes for himself to get out of the soil covered pants and shirt. He disappeared behind the short wall and changed, and then came back around to use the wash basin for his hands and face.  
  
He didn't speak to the Puca; Connor was going to let him break the silence this time. Daniel showing up like this served to irritate him again, and Connor didn't trust himself not to say something he shouldn't. He didn't want Daniel jumping him again out of anger.  
  
"I...wanted to apologize again, Eight. I found quickly enough in the moment that I did not like scaring you like that." Connor still said nothing and continued to clean off the dirt while he listened. "And I stayed away because I was unsure how to fix the damage I caused."  
  
"I could feel when you refreshed the wards though," Connor commented quietly. "You didn't exactly stay away."  
  
"Because I wanted to protect my friend."  
  
"Friend or property?" he asked before he could stop himself. Connor slapped a hand over his mouth and looked to Daniel. "Shit. I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"  
  
"No. I deserved that. I did." It stung, but Daniel knew it was earned.  
  
"No, you didn't. You're trying to...make it right, and I'm the one lashing out this time."  
  
"Are you apologizing because you feel guilty or because you're afraid I'll attack you for it?" Daniel winced. He shouldn't have said that either.  
  
Connor didn't respond immediately, choosing to dry his hands first while he tried to form a coherent answer. Instead, he went with, "Both."  
  
"At least you're honest," Daniel muttered.  
  
"I have little reason to lie about that." Connor faced Daniel, eyes not leaving his. "It hurt and scared the hell out of me, Daniel. I didn't get any sleep for days after that, terrified that you'd change your mind and come back to follow through. Hell, that's what I thought when I saw you after you changed back into this."  
  
"And I don't know how to make it right. I'm bad at this, Eight."  
  
Connor remembered Daniel's breath against his throat, hear the snap of teeth that could kill him in seconds if Daniel had wanted. He'd hoped to forget it, but with Daniel back, he couldn't let it go yet. He didn't know how. "I don't know either. I am just as socially inept as you."  
  
Daniel had an idea. A gift he could give Connor that would give him some semblance of safety, could make Connor feel like they were on equal ground with one another. Knowledge. It was risky. Fuck, it could be disastrous for him, but he needed Connor to trust him again; he didn't know why either. They had only spoken twice now, though Daniel had lingered to keep an eye on the witch for his safety.  
  
After a beat of silence, Daniel closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He shouldn't. He shouldn't tell Connor the truth and...he had to.  
  
"I lied about my name." Daniel opened his eyes again and looked up to see Connor staring at him in bemusement. He didn't know what Daniel was getting at. "My name before I met Emma was...fuck, I almost forgot it, but it was Del'nehan. Daniel was the name Emma gave me and after her death, it just...became part of me. Sometimes, a name can change, Eight."  
  
"So your real name changed to Daniel?" Connor asked quietly. His umber eyes were wide with shock. A fae had just given Connor their real name, and he didn't know what to do with it. Names held so much power and Daniel just flat out admitted that Connor had been using his name the whole time. Had Connor known, he could have forced Daniel to calm down the last time they saw each other.  
  
But that was in the past and couldn't be changed.  
  
"Why give me your name when we met? Didn't you think that it was dangerous?"  
  
"Does it sound like a name one of my people would have? It's a human name, not a name found among the Fair Folk. If you wish to hide something, hide it in plain sight. No one would think to use it with the intention of controlling me."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?"  
  
Daniel could see Connor closing off from him, and he could see how Connor believed that Daniel was lying. "Because I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like how it smells or how it looks on you or how you look at me with those wide eyes of yours and I don't understand why but I fucking hate it."  
  
The more he spoke, the more his voice rose, and he took a breath to calm himself when he saw Connor tensing again.  
  
"Knowing that "Daniel" is my true name gives you the ability to send me away if you feel threatened again, or to call me back if you need help, or to keep me from hurting you like you think I will." And Connor had every right to fear that. Daniel tried to hold Connor's gaze and finished softly, "It makes you my equal like this so that you won't feel powerless again."  
  
The quiet between them while both absorbed the influx of information and emotion in it was stifling. Neither liked the feeling of it, but neither wanted to be the one to break it. The tension only grew because of their inaction. Daniel could feel Connor's eyes studying him, looking for any hint of a lie, but Connor finally gave up; he couldn't find any.  
  
"Would you like to help me make dinner, Daniel?" Connor finally asked. He wanted to be far away from that conversation for both of their sakes. It was making them uncomfortable, and a distraction would be in their best interests.  
  
"Do I actually get to eat any of it?"  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
\--  
  
The next time Connor saw Daniel, it was after a nightmare where he saw his brothers dying in the fire. Their burned corpses called out to him, begging for him to help them, to save them even though Connor knew they were already dead. They gripped at his clothes, trying to pull him back to them even as he tried to run from the scene.  
  
In his dream, he had tripped over something and screamed when he saw that it was Conrad. His face was the only part of him that remained unaffected by the fire that had killed him. He begged for Connor to answer one question: "Why didn't you save me? I was so scared, and you weren't there Connor! You left me! You left me to die alone!"  
  
Connor tried to get away, but Conrad had a death grip on his ankle and dragged him back. The expression of sorrow and hurt and fear on Conrad's face morphed into pure fury. "I hate you! You left me to die! Traitor! You bastard! This is your fault!"  
  
"N-no! I wasn't...I wasn't home. I was away getting supplies in town. I didn't know. I didn't know! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Conrad. I--"  
  
"No! That's an excuse! You left me with them! They hated me, and now I hate you--"  
  
Connor bolted upright out of his bed with a shout, heart pounding and hands frantically pulling at the blankets to make sure there wasn't a burned hand clutching at him anymore. Connor swore he could still feel a death grip on his leg. His eyes scanned the cottage that now seemed too empty and dark, and Connor was terrified that something was there to kill him, that Conrad's spirit had come for him.  
  
"Daniel... help." He curled in on himself, hands clutching his hair as a sob escaped him. He needed someone and had no one else to turn to, and yet the Puca wasn't even here. Connor was utterly alone and afraid. He repeated in a broken whisper, "Please, please, please."  
  
The bed dipped gently, and Connor yelped, scrambling away from whoever was there. Conrad. It had to be Conrad and--Daniel was sitting there, one hand outstretched to reach out to Connor, but he'd paused when Connor had tried to escape him. His eyes were wide with shock and worry, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what.  
  
Daniel. He wasn't alone. Fuck, he wasn't alone.  
  
Connor lurched forward and threw his arms around Daniel, body shaking with his sobs and ramblings about how Conrad hated him, how he couldn't save his brother.  
  
Daniel stiffened under the contact and had to rebalance himself to keep from toppling over with the force that Connor had tackled him. After a second, he wrapped his arms around Connor and raised one hand to brush through Connor's hair gently. He said nothing and let Connor get everything out first, waited for the man to settle down enough for Daniel to finally speak.  
  
"Your brother doesn't hate you, Eight. It was out of your hands, and you couldn't have done anything to save him if you were there. You could have died trying. Do you think that that's what he would have wanted? He wouldn't have wanted you to die too, even if he was scared."  
  
"But he was alone. I wasn't there for him." Connor had buried his face in Daniel's shoulder, having moved on to the hiccupping stage.  
  
"I know. But he...he was a good kid. He isn't suffering now, and he wouldn't blame you for this."  
  
Connor didn't speak, just shivered with the remnants of his tears. Daniel hugged him closer, trying to keep his own breathing steady to help Connor match it to calm down. He nuzzled Connor slightly, tucking his face into the man's hair. The cottage reeked of Connor's fear, his terror and pain. How long had he been dreaming about this? It would take ages for the stench to go away.  
  
"Do you want to lay back down?" When Connor nodded, Daniel helped him slip back under the covers and crawled in next to him when Connor insisted. Daniel didn't have it in him to deny Connor the comfort; he hated seeing him like this. "Just...listen to my breathing and breathe along with me, Eight."  
  
He felt Connor nod and press closer; Daniel was more than happy to tighten his hold around Connor and let Connor tangle their legs together to eliminate any space between them. If comforting Connor meant that Daniel was Connor's body pillow for the night, then so be it. Daniel wouldn't complain.  
  
Connor whispered into the darkness, "Thank you for coming, Daniel."  
  
"I will always come to you when you call, Eight. You don't need my name to request my presence."  
  
"Thank you anyway." They laid like that a while, and Daniel thought that Connor had fallen asleep when he heard Connor murmur, "Call me Connor. My name is Connor."  
  
Wait, Eight had just given him his name. Connor. Connor was his name and holy shit that sent a thrill through Daniel. It wasn't one of selfishness, not one of malice. Connor, despite what had happened, trusted him with that power. It felt...nice.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Connor. Now, sleep. We can speak again in the morning."  
  
\--  
  
Connor woke one morning weeks later to the feeling of something warm holding him close. It was still foreign, but not unpleasant. He just wasn't used to it. He was slow to open his eyes, not looking forward to the sharp pain the light would cause. He hated mornings.  
  
Opening his eyes was worth the discomfort when he was met with the sight of Daniel sleeping next to him. He'd...actually stayed the night this time. He was usually gone before the sun came up. Connor figured the man would leave after Connor fell asleep again like he had the first time they met. But no, Daniel was here next to him, peacefully sleeping while clinging to Connor. It left a warm feeling in Connor's chest, one that spread throughout the rest of him with the knowledge that Daniel had stayed. For Connor. Not because Connor commanded him, but because Connor had asked last night and Daniel truly wanted to stay the night with him.  
  
Curious, Connor reached up to run his fingertips over Daniel's cheek but hesitated. No. That would be intrusive, rude, for Connor to touch him like that. Curiosity wasn't an excuse. He dropped it instead, tucking it between them. Rather than touch, he just...looked. This close, without Connor being scared shitless, he could see very faint freckles. Unless someone was this close, they'd never know that they were there. Their loss, Connor thought.  
  
"You're thinking too loudly," Daniel muttered. His blue-gray eyes were still closed, but there was a faint smile on his lips.  
  
"Now you can read minds?" Connor asked softly, teasing. "Then what am I thinking now?"  
  
"That you want me to make you scrambled eggs." And now that he'd said it, Connor could feel his stomach grumbling.  
  
"Well, now I am, but I wasn't before you said something."  
  
Daniel's lips twitched in amusement. "And? It's something you're thinking about now."  
  
"Cheater."  
  
In response, Daniel only tightened his hold on the witch with a contented sigh. "Changed my mind. I'm staying here a little longer. Don't feel like getting up."  
  
He sounded so petulant, and Connor smiled as he relaxed into the embrace. No sense in fighting it, hungry or not. "Fine by me. You're like a furnace."  
  
"I know. It's useful in the winter." Daniel opened his eyes to stare at Connor. There was a fondness there that Connor didn't know what to do with and he feared that asking would ruin the moment.  
  
Instead, he grinned. "May have to convince you to come back in the winter then. It'd cut down on the amount of wood I'd have to use to heat the place."  
  
"So you are using me?"  
  
"I'll feed you as compensation," Connor joked.  
  
"If the stew you made last time is any indication of what I am getting when I am here, I may take you up on that."  
  
Connor hummed and curled closer, "Deal. I'll make you stew and biscuits and things, and you can double as a stove."  
  
Daniel snorted quietly and shook his head. "Terrible. I cannot believe a human thinks they could use me for something like this and then actually get away with it."  
  
"I don't hear any actual complaints," Connor fired back with a smirk.  
  
"Ass."  
  
"Is that a complaint too?"  
  
Daniel hesitated to reply to that. What was Connor getting at? Oh. "No. You have...a shapely one, from what I can tell."  
  
"Oh, gods." He cracked up, body shaking in Daniel's arms with it.  
  
"Wait. Did I interpret that incorrectly?" Shit. Please don't let him have fucked that up too.  
  
"No, but your response was amusing."  
  
"Little shit," Daniel muttered into Connor's hair.  
  
"Mmhmm, but I'm your little shit." And wasn't that something?  
  
Daniel was surprised by it. They had talked about the ownership thing, and Connor had shown his discomfort for it, but here he was, saying that he was Daniel's. Did he mean that or was it a joke?  
  
"Are you?" he asked hesitantly. "Mine, I mean."  
  
He was met with silence, and that unnerved him. Daniel wanted to take it back and play it off as a joke. Before he could say anything to fix the situation, Connor spoke.  
  
"If you'd like."  
  
"But is that what you would want?"  
  
"I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't...thinking about it, at least." Daniel felt a puff of air, a huff from where Connor was embarrassed or put off by the question.  
  
Daniel reached up and ran a hand through Connor's hair while he thought on his next words.  
  
"Offering yourself to one of the fae is quite the risk, Connor. Are you sure you'd want an extended association with me?" He didn't want Connor just saying shit like that without thinking. Once done, taking it back was difficult and could bring in a whole host of problems.  
  
"What risks could you pose?" Connor would put it on him. He couldn't imagine being the one to cause any physical harm to Daniel, at least, but he didn't know what the effects would be coming from Daniel's side. If anything, the damage Connor could do was emotional or mental, and he tried his best to remain calm and kind.  
  
"I gave you my name to protect yourself, trusting you not to abuse it, but you gave me yours a while back, and you have to trust me not to abuse it as well. We're no longer on equal footing because of that, and there's an imbalance in power. Are you okay with that? That's not...exactly, usually, a good thing."  
  
Connor fell silent again. Daniel was right. With Daniel now having Connor's name, Daniel was back to being the stronger of the two. And Daniel was...unpredictable at times. He seemed to exercise more control over himself by leaving when he was irritated, but still. Connor backed himself into a corner.  
  
It was foolish of him, but there wasn't a way to take it back now.  
  
He pulled away from Daniel and propped himself up on his arms, staring down at the Puca. Connor was frowning, still unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he exhaled slowly, and his expression softened.  
  
"Then don't give me a reason to leave, Daniel. Don't abuse that gift."  
  
Daniel nodded. Well, shit. "Then I am yours if you are mine."  
  
When Connor nodded back to him, Daniel leaned up and pressed a light kiss to Connor's forehead. "Then it's settled. If I ever cross a line, then the deal is null, and I must keep away from that day forward, regardless of what I want. That is the so-called catch in this deal."  
  
"Thank you. I pray we never need it."  
  
\--  
  
They saw each other more frequently after that, and Connor was growing more comfortable around Daniel and more used to how Daniel handled his frustration. He would just up and leave, deciding that space to cool down was a far better way to control himself than to stay and continue to argue. Connor wasn't complaining; he needed a while to calm down after an argument too.  
  
He'd yet to feel threatened again.  
  
They did little in the way of physical intimacy, choosing to merely share Connor's bed. It was a little small, a tight fit, and so the Puca snuck a new one in that would fit them both. Connor came back from town to find the new bed and fresh blankets, blankets that would actually fit the bed and cover both of them. The gesture was sweet, and Connor almost asked where he got it, but then decided against it. There was little reason for him to know the source of the bed.  
  
Winter was...interesting.  
  
Apparently, some Pucas "nested" in the winter. Connor came back once to find that there was a much larger pile of blankets, the old ones, and a small pile of their clothes lumped on the surface of the bed. He blinked at it in confusion and turned his gaze to Daniel with a raised eyebrow. What the hell was this about?  
  
"It's winter," was all Daniel said.  
  
Connor didn't question it, but he did draw the line at them sleeping in a bed of clothes. Daniel's groan was exaggerated, but he didn't argue and cleaned it back up.  
  
He couldn't complain about the extra blankets, however, because even curling up against Daniel didn't entirely ward off the chill of the night at times. One morning, he woke to find that he'd dragged Daniel halfway on top of him to use as a blanket, which Daniel teased him about when he found that Connor was awake and mortified about the situation. Daniel didn't actually mind. Humans were fragile and if it kept Connor warm and safe, so be it.  
  
One morning, however, Daniel woke to find Connor staring at him, head propped up on his hand as he took in Daniel's features.  
  
"Can I help you?" his voice rough with sleep.  
  
Connor didn't respond immediately and chose to lean in instead and kiss Daniel on the lips for the first time. Daniel blinked in confusion before he surged forward to kiss Connor again. The needy sound couldn't have possibly come from Daniel; he'd deny it until the end of time. He rolled to hover over Connor, relishing in the yelp his mouth over Connor's stifled.  
  
He pulled back a moment, taking in the sight of Connor's chest rapidly rising and falling, the flush that dusted his cheeks, ears, and neck; Daniel reached down to take Connor's hand in his and kissed the tip of each finger, silently willing to slow things back down between them. It was too damn early in the dead of winter for him to attempt this. He met Connor's eyes and saw his pupils dilate.  
  
Daniel changed his mind immediately.  
  
Daniel had to avoid Connor's neck; the witch stiffened beneath him when he got too close the first time, and Daniel decided to wait to venture there until Connor was comfortable with it. He hadn't thought about that; he wished he had.  
  
If there was ever a time he didn't mind Connor using his name for something frivolous, this was it. He liked the way it sounded, how it was whispered like a prayer between gasps.  
  
Daniel could get used to this; Connor didn't have a single complaint either, not even after centuries passed.


	27. Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has a sweet-tooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was candy and I was talking to a friend of mine on Tumblr about my hc for Josh liking sweets and the candy thing morphed into this goofy thing about sweets in general.  
> Have some Josh fluff.

CyberLife had offered an update and upgraded parts to androids wishing to experience new sensations and things that humans can enjoy. Taste and the ability to expel food without it causing damage to their systems was one way.  
  
Androids were thrilled to try foods from around the world, wanting to taste everything that life had to offer.  
  
Josh was a victim to sweets.  
  
He and North decided to try candy, and while North liked them, Josh wound up walking off with the rest of the candy, much to North's amusement. The even-tempered, passive android was actually taking something without asking and giving an air of "don't think about stopping me," and it was hilarious.  
  
She, Markus, and Simon were talking one afternoon, waiting for Josh to get there so they could begin their meeting. When the man walked in, he had a large bag of MnM's and was tossing them into the air to catch with his mouth.  
  
"It's a damn good thing you can't get diabetes, Josh," Markus teased from his perch on a desk, grinning. Good. His friend had found something that he enjoyed and could smile about. Josh tried to avoid treating himself, choosing to put other's wants above his own; Josh having a moment of harmless selfishness was satisfying, Markus decided.  
  
Josh only grinned and tossed one of the MnM's at Markus, laughing when Markus tried to catch it with his mouth as Josh had, but it wound up bouncing off of his nose instead and hitting the floor with a _tic_. Okay, they'd have to get the guy sweets more often if it made him this happy. They'd never seen him smiling so much.  
  
\--  
  
The next time they saw him indulging himself, is when they found him in the kitchen of the cafeteria of New Jericho, baking several dozen cupcakes. From scratch. He taught himself how to do everything and then found candy eyes to put on the cupcakes, drawing out little ghosts around them in the frosting. It was cute, and the kids got a kick out of it.  
  
\--  
  
When Hank came by to drop something off, he saw a table by the entrance that had cupcakes and things piled high on it. He looked to Simon, who only grinned and said 'Josh found something he liked.' Hank made a motion, silently asking if he could sneak a cupcake, and Simon told him to take several because they had more than they knew what to do with.  
  
"Oh thank heavens because Connor won't let me have any sweets and it's killing me."  
  
"Don't let Josh hear you or he'll bombard you with trays of the stuff," Simon warned with a laugh.  
  
Hank fell silent a second before grinning. "Think I could convince him to make some for me to take to work?"  
  
"I don't think he'd mind at all. Josh is currently teaching himself how to make macarons."  
  
Hank pressed a hand against his chest. "I will gladly take one for the team and volunteer as a taste-tester."  
  
"I'll let him know."  
  
\--  
  
Josh eventually opened a bakery within a year, one that was popular among humans and androids alike. He made headlines for his work, photos of him showed Josh beaming brighter than a kid on Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOW JOSH SOME LOVE YOU COWARDS.  
> Me included tbh because that man has earned it after the crap he's been put through.


	28. Costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North thinks Kara is a snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let my girls be fluffy and flirty and have fun together.  
> And let me have a reason to have North call Kara a snack bc we all know Kara's a snack.

"Well, don't you look delicious," someone purred in Kara's ear.  
  
She grinned when she recognized the voice and turned to face North. Kara got a better look at the woman's costume; a vampire.  
  
"Is that you talking, or the costume?" she teased.  
  
"Both. My girlfriend is a snack, and my victim is a five-course meal." North took one step closer, licking her lips. North delighted in Kara's embarrassed giggle and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against her lips. "You really do look pretty, love."  
  
"You sure? It's not too much?" North gave Kara a once-over, taking in the long hair and the lovely, purple dress that stopped part way to her shins.  
  
"Never. You make a beautiful Rapunzel." North lightly ran her hands over the puffy sleeves gathered at Kara's shoulder. "Where did you get this costume anyway?"  
  
"Josh helped me make it, actually."  
  
"Really?" She didn't know he could do that. "And why Rapunzel?"  
  
"Because Alice wanted me to be Rapunzel this year for Halloween. I have to wear it again next week. I don't mind though." She twisted a little back and forth to make the skirt of the dress swish. "I feel pretty in it." Kara wasn't used to the feeling, usually covered up from head to toe in something darker and more modest. Not that this was revealing, but it was nice to dress up a little for a change.  
  
"I haven't had a chance to ask her what she wants to be this year."  
  
Kara snickered, and North had to tell her heart to shut the fuck up and knock it off because that was too damn cute and she didn't know how to handle it. "She wants to be Spider-Man in a tutu."  
  
North blinked slowly at her a moment before the words registered. "She wants to..." Then she burst into her own fit of giggles at the image in her mind of what a sight that would be. "Oh, Ranine, I can't wait to see her in action next week."  
  
"Padded muscles and everything," Kara said with a nod.  
  
"Oh, just, I can't wait to take pictures of that and send them to Connor and Nines. They'll get a kick out of it, especially Nines." They'd found that, despite his lack of interest in kids, he had a small soft spot for Alice that he tried to hide from everyone. Connor had snuck pictures of Nines' tiny smile when he thought no one was looking because all eyes were on Alice to Kara and North because he thought it was sweet. No one could resist Alice, apparently, not even Nines.  
  
"Josh helped me with the tutu too. Alice wanted it to be purple. Josh asked if she was sure or if she wanted it to be red and blue to match the rest of the outfit, but she insisted on purple." So she was going out in purple, red, and blue. What a sight that would be.  
  
"Where is she tonight, anyway?"  
  
Kara smirked. "Nines and Connor are watching her. Nines tried to play it off like it was an inconvenience, but I know what I saw. He can't hide that smile."  
  
"I don't think anyone can say no to her. Who's Nines' partner again? Gerald? Or something? I saw him once go soft for her when we went to visit. He didn't swear or anything. Even he was a little taken."  
  
"It's amazing what kids can do to some people."  
  
North smiled and pecked Kara on the cheek. "Now, enough about everyone else and more about you in that cute dress. Damn, you have nice calves."  
  
"Oh, for the love of, North! Not in public."  
  
"Oh, I'm doing it in public. You're lucky I have just enough class not to drag you into the nearest closet and have a taste of you."  
  
Kara swatted North's shoulder, trying to scowl but failing miserably. "Take me back to your place, and THEN we can roleplay, babe."  
  
"Hell yeah, I knew I loved you."


	29. Eerie Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought this series would end without a POTO au, then you were mistaken...  
> This is a slightly healthier relationship than the musical, however, but ehhhh???  
> Anyway, enjoy some Simon900.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I goofed up on the chapter name's spelling. My b.

Simon followed the voice that called to him, singing a somber song from the deep. The haunting voice guided him down the dark, stone stairs into some kind of underground aqueduct. Their voice was deep, smooth in a way that Simon had yet to hear from any of the singers on the stage with him, but that was familiar. The voices of his fellow actors were meant to carry into the theatre, so that no matter your seat, you could hear the performance. There was a brassy sound to many of the voices because of it, just this side of sharp-edged due to the volume.  
  
But his Angel's voice had never been that way, not for Simon. His Angel sang him to sleep on restless nights, trained Simon to be the best of the best vocalists and made sure that Simon was ready for anything. Simon could never thank him enough for it, could never fully repay him for the man's kindness. He didn't know where to start.  
  
The voice lulled him into a sense of peace, calming him from the uneasy and wary approach he had started his decent with. Soft, gentle, it carried and echoed through the tunnels. It was disorienting at first, trying to follow the sound when the sound was coming from every direction. Simon softly hummed along once he figured out which way to go. It was easier like this. If he harmonized, his angel's voice would take on an excited edge, a happy one despite the tone of the song. It was like a lover's caress, a touch filled with love and such joy, only for Simon to hear and enjoy.  
  
He smiled slightly, continuing to sing along until he found the source. His Angel was waiting for him, gloved hand outstretched with a soft expression on his face, of what Simon could see of it, anyway. Always enigmatic, and always cautious to never let Simon see all of him. The mystery of it was alluring in its own way and was one thing that had Simon meeting the man again and again. His Angel was like a drug, someone that Simon kept coming back to out of a growing need for his presence. Simon's Angel knew this and used it to tease Simon to him.  
  
He needn't try to lure Simon to him like this. All it would take is a single call, and Simon would come to his side, content and smiling at the honor of it.  
  
Simon supposed that his Angel liked to make a game of it; Simon wouldn't deny him the hunt if that is what he wished. It was enjoyable, even though sometimes, Simon wanted to be in his arms and skip the wait. His Angel Nicholas would only smile in amusement when Simon voiced his complaint, kissing away any trace of pout or argument, and stealing Simon's breath.  
  
Reaching out, Simon carefully set his hand in Nicholas', relaxing into the warmth that radiated from beneath the glove. Nicholas always burned hot to the touch, Simon found. He didn't mind, took pleasure in the feeling of being held by the Sun.  
  
Nicholas' voice had softened, and he slowly turned Simon around, pressing his chest against Simon's back and swaying with him. They finished their song, eyes closed as they listened to the last of their echoes die out.  
  
"You came." He always sounded so surprised, and Simon couldn't for the life of him, figure out why.  
  
"Of course I did," he murmured, leaning back against Nicholas' broad chest and tipping his head back to rest on his shoulder. Simon faintly smiled when he felt Nicholas' lips on his neck, a gentle brush of skin that sent a shiver through him. "I will always come to you, my Angel."  
  
Nicholas' arms had wrapped around Simon's waist, loose in their hold until Nicholas wanted to press him closer, to breathe in the scent of his love. Simon always smelled of citrus and tea. The source was a soap that Nicholas had sent to him frequently, liking the way it clung to Simon's skin. Simon used it because he liked how it made Nicholas melt against him when he caught a whiff of it. Nicholas wasn't the only one who could be tempting.  
  
"Do not make a promise that you may not be capable of keeping, darling," Nicholas murmured into Simon's ear, delighting in the shudder that shook Simon from head to toe.  
  
"I have yet to make a promise that I have not kept, Nicholas." Still, he worried as to what would happen to Nicholas if something happened to Simon? Would he remain here in the shadows or would he venture out into the world finally? Was Simon unintentionally keeping Nicholas locked away in the theatre? "I will not leave you, so long as you'll have me."  
  
"Always, Simon. Always."


	30. Horror Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's not enough positive interaction between North and Nines in this fandom.  
> So enjoy this short thing of them having a small heart to heart.

Nines, North found, did not like scary movies. It was surprising. The guy seemed so stoic and unaffected by the world around him that it seemed impossible for him to be scared.  
  
They had all gathered to watch a movie together, and she noticed how Nines flinched when there was a jump scare. It was only in his eyes, but it was there. Even with Connor cuddled next to him, he was on edge. North felt kind of sad for him.  
  
She and Nines were unlikely friends and a force to be reckoned with when they teamed up. His dry, straight-faced humor mixed with her quick sarcasm had them gossiping and dragging their friends and enemies. It was hilarious, and his soft laughter was worth it. It was rare that he smiled or laughed, which is what made his relationship with Connor seem strange. They were so different, and yet they complemented each other well. Although, she _had_ seen him smile freely around Alice. He was better with kids than adults; it was sweet.  
  
When everyone went to bed for the night, North stayed up, reading a book on ancient Greek religion. She always had a hard time sleeping and didn't bother until at least two am. So until then, she would read or play video games.  
  
An hour later, Nines wandered into the common area with two mugs of coffee. He silently passed North's to her and took a seat on the couch with a slow sigh. Nines took a sip of his coffee.  
  
North tasted hers and smiled slightly. Nines may be a little quiet about his acts of kindness, but they were there; sometimes, people didn't notice. It was the little things he did for people that showed how much he cared.  
  
"The movies bother you?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Unfortunately. Connor does not know, but I still watch them for his sake." Nines took another sip before continuing. "He likes them."  
  
North scoffed. "There are some things that you shouldn't have to suffer through for your partner, Nines."  
  
"But what about the give and take people talk about?"  
  
"The safety of your mental health is more important. Connor cares about you. He'll understand if you explain it to him. He can watch them with Hank or something." She set her mug down. "Knowing him, he'll be more than happy not to pressure you. I mean, he'll still probably ask you out of courtesy, but he won't expect you to say yes and won't be upset."  
  
"I know, but I do not like telling him 'no,'" he admitted, avoiding North's gaze. It was almost cute, she thought, to see Nines of all people looking sheepish.  
  
"And? Learn to say 'no' and don't sacrifice your comfort in a situation like this."  
  
Nines didn't respond right away, choosing to stare at the floor while he sipped his coffee. North could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears from thinking. It was comical that one of the most intelligent people she knew needed to take time to think; who knew he needed this long to process things?  
  
Nines opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Connor wandered in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other tried to pull the too large pajama pants back up. The guy hated using the drawstring, and then he'd get irritated that they wouldn't stay up. He shuffled his feet as he made his way to the couch, leaning over the back to wrap his arms around Nines' neck from behind. Connor pressed a soft kiss to the top of Nines' head.  
  
"What are you doing up, Connor?" Nines had relaxed the moment Connor appeared, small smile soft and adoring.  
  
"Bed got cold." Because he had his face buried in Nines' hair, Connor's reply was slightly muffled. Nines's smile grew wry, and he reached up to run his hand through Connor's messy bedhead.  
  
Ugh, North wanted to puke at how slow and gentle the two high-strung men became when they were around each other. The usually reserved couple had the sweetest shows of affection when they were comfortable around the other people in the room. North wasn't sure if she should feel honored or disgusted at how sappy they were.  
  
They were almost as bad as...well, she couldn't say anything. She and Markus were...affectionate in public.  
  
North grabbed her mug and knocked the rest of it back. "Thanks for the coffee, Nines. Just...think about what I said, okay?"  
  
Nines met her gaze and nodded silently. Once she knew he heard her, North left the room to dump her mug in the kitchen and then to head for bed. She'd find a way to go to sleep. Markus would be happy that she was there sooner than usual; her insomnia worried him.  
  
As she headed down the hall, she heard Connor and Nines quietly talking about the movie and what Nines needed. North snorted. Connor caved just as quickly to Nines as Nines did to Connor. She doubted there would be an issue here.


	31. Trick-or-treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Can't believe I actually finished this damn thing. Lol  
> This has low-key KaraxConnor. I hope that's okay.  
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and I'm so glad you guys enjoyed these short stories.  
> Have a lovely Halloween! :0)

Alice and Cole had decided to wear themed costumes together, and Kara had to admit, they looked great. Alice had her Spider-Man costume with the purple tutu and Cole had decided on Captain America. It was cute. Somehow, Alice had managed to get Cole out of his shell long enough to be friends just in time for Halloween.  
  
She excitedly dragged Cole along behind her. Alice, usually so quiet that people wondered if there was something around, wouldn't stop talking. How Cole managed to get a word in edgewise was anyone's guess. They talked about the cooling Cole was learning to play, Alice's latest painting, about the newest episode of whatever show they were watching, and whatever else had their attention at the time. Cole was two years younger, but he managed to keep up just fine—somehow.  
  
"And then, and then! Shawn went "POW!" and hit him. He went "whoooosh!" against the wall with a "BOOM!" It was awesome!" Cole even had the hand motions to enhance his storytelling.  
  
Alice didn't get a chance to respond because they were at the next house. Together, they all but screamed "trick or treat!" at the little old man, and Kara and Connor had to remind them to lower their voices gently. The pair sheepishly apologized to the guy who waved it out with a smile. He knew the kids were just excited.  
  
Which was an understatement.  
  
Connor gently squeezed Kara's hand. "At least they're having fun, right?"  
  
"Yes, but if they get a sugar buzz, you get to deal with them when we all get home."  
  
Connor groaned, but there was no real misery behind it. "Fiiiine, but I get a fourth of their candy."  
  
They laughed when they heard the two kids shout their protests.  
  
What a night. Connor and Kara were we're glad that the kids were having fun and that things had worked out so well after the revolution. The sleepover tonight would be a wild time, however, with how buzzed the kids would be. This was an adventure and an accident waiting to happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Crits? Thoughts? Prompts?
> 
> Comment below or come say hi on Tumblr at ixhadbadxdays


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